i stumble down the harbor to the tavern on the square
and heard a raucous ruckus as it rang
from some foul inebriates
the men i used to call my mates
were lost in song and this is what they sang—they sang:

"hey, hi, yo, ho
o'er the atlantic we go
drinking 'til we all get sick
and comin' up with limericks
but we never quite remember how they end"

Ashby’s Backloggery: a place where I learn just how fucking lazy I am

The number of Uncompleted games I have with descriptions akin to “one day I’ll be the final boss, I swear” is really a bad sign