You, Dionysus? No, that can’t be true
Bacchus, the son of Zeus I know, not you
He smells of nectar, you just smell of goats
Grape-less
The Celts pour barley down their throats
So you’re less Bacchus than Back-to-the-Earth
Your oats are tame, not wild
In flour, not fire your birth
A strong comment here is specific: the phrase you keep hearing, the mood you come back for, or the reason this song stays in rotation.
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