Troupers

Through wide mouths
The mountains 
Are no longer blue,
Aluminum pyramids
Have long since toppled 
Like all the rest of fun soaked
Dispensers, caked with suds
Of regretful mornings to come;
Those.....who pain the day
One's that don't 
Or at least pretend,
Know the curses of never again
Will be the next best opportunity 
To prove to night we're better,
Great frozen blue
Miller times
Riddled with shots
For those who wine.....
More forgetful  hangovers 
In due 
To better hang on.