Success tastes like great fucking champagne.
Not the local bullshit
But something foreign,
Something that is from far away, and
Something that tastes like nothing special
Until you know the price per bottle,
Then you appreciate it.
You sip it, sip by sip and
The feeling of the chilled bobbles in your throat
Registered in your mind for a moment
And then the dry finish aftertaste, which tastes like an ass, but it’s an
Expensive big ass success that you’ve achieved
Through all these years of hard work.
Nothing will ever taste like this anymore.
It is like popping the cherry,
Not the most pleasant but one of the most memorable events.
Your crisp white dress shirt pressed against your body,
The body of the successful man
With a bright chest, breathing smoothly
With a smirk on your face
With a fire in your eyes
That burns fucking everything around.
Everything that you look at
And everyone is just mesmerized.
You drink more, and then you smoke with pleasure,
As the music of success is playing in the background.
It is your favorite band with your favorite song
And that is all you want to hear at the moment.
Fuck all those side-noizes,
Meaningless sounds of destruction.
Your mind is drowning in the booze
And you just don’t give a fuck
Like a true winner, like a true champ.
You’ve made it. You are a successful man.
And you should be proud of it.