My ginger-ale is done, and I'm still so thirsty
Feeling the last savor, ever so deep in mouth
Wanting another taste as I'm heading down south
But can't find it in store, I thought I was worthy

Getting a taste of Crush, but tired of the sweet
The harshness of cola, doesn't do it either
Wanting combination in favorite mixture
Nothing comes close to it, the taste that is so neat

The last bottle opened and finished with regret
Evaporated in air amidst a skyline search
For the truth of flavor as confessions in church

The last drops were so bad, leaving with a real threat
That there's no more ginger, but maybe I'll find ale
The future can look bleak, yet follow a new trail.