Whiskey Priest

This is a new one. The usual.

Whiskey Priest,

There's a virgin active by the hospice shop,
I see it all from here,
The bottle windows of this passenger steamer,
My eyes are ringed with beer,
Won't you join me for a drop,
A good six foot and then the slack,
A Pierrepoint presentation,
The Stella's got its groove back,

Not stopping, never staying;
The Spectator at the feast,
In the shadows I'm the chaser:
Please cal me the Whiskey Priest,

You say I'm weak, I know what's weaker,
The thread that holds it all in place,
Life hauled off like a hobbled streaker,
A coper cupping your disgrace,
I've never hidden behind this collar,
I hover over like a red balloon,
I bob and slobber in the air-con,
A waxy Wayne; a pink gin moon,

Not stopping, never staying;
The Spectator at the feast,
In the shadows I'm the chaser:
Please cal me the Whiskey Priest,

I'd rather have a bottle in front of me,
Than an embattled philosophy,
Time waits for no man in Heligoland,
Got paid in unkind and
I got laid in the same,
Next time I tell you it's all up front,
That's all I want,