Playing with words: ...before I have to eat them

The wise old bartender
Had cleaned every glass
From the lips that would listen
As their footprints would pass

He learned about ‘talkers’
And the things they’d drink in
While by nature and wisdom
What we’ve learned in our skin

He spoke very little
As he’d wipe them all dry
Not only the outside
But their insides that cry...

“I’m empty and lonely
And need something with proof”
....That’s when he’d open up
And serve the hardest drink - ‘Truth’