Haters make way for steps side by side.
Riding in line to hide numbers, perchance.
We wouldn't want those Jawas to get out alive.
Riding this dewback makes me ache on the ass.
Been troopin' so long I've forgotten the taste.
The taste so sweet of wine, beer, or whiskey.
We got back to Tatooine for haggis and whiskey.
Drank so much I fell over the side.
Railings on imperial bases leave little to taste.
Course, honorable discharge from an injury perchance.
Nah, it didn't even work when Bun-Ear Lady shot me in the ass.
I can't believe we left no Jawas alive.
That gold sodden droid is in very poor taste.
I shot him several times, but he's still alive.
Some big furry screamer was around perchance.
My helmet smells like whiskey.
Plus there's this awful pain in my side.
Lord Vader has no ass...no ass.
Most troopers live fine on this side.
My parents have some money, perchance.
It's the only thing that keeps me alive.
My Mom made our planet Senator seem like such an ass.
He didn't want to seem in bad taste.
She bribed him with some Coruscantian whiskey
When I joined the Imperial Army, they called me an ass.
I told them that they lacked intergalactic taste.
They said, stay here, be on our side.
I said no matter what I'd be alive.
They've got a working death star, and you send me free whiskey.
Nothing's gonna happen, perchance
I never knew how Jawas would taste.
I'm the one who's gonna make others un-alive.
Like those screeching, annoying jawas, perchance.
Like you taught me, Mom, anything goes well with whiskey
It burns the throat on each side.
I won't even make mention of the infantry going after Leia's ass.
We come in and kick ass, for we are the storm ALIVE.
Here in the storm you will taste the knowlege of whiskey.
In the end know the side you will, PERCHANCE.
....Umm...this may or may not warrant explanation. Ok. It does. A series of events (and paranoiac, but ultimately loving worries) led me to owing Joan a Facebook Wall Sestina due 24 hours from the date it was promised. And there it is.