Homebrew Wrecked My Life: A fictitious poem

I've been brewing night and day for about half a year,
Seven hundred batches of a nectar strong and clear.
I've filled up every corner of this home that was so sweet,
But now my honey's gone and set my kettle on the street.

I spent Zachary's trust fund on a tank of stainless steel,
And sold the faithful doggie just to put the thing on wheels.
In retrospect I realize that I caused undue pain,
I should never have made the jump from Extract to All-Grain.

Homebrew wrecked my life today,
This brewer's name is Mud.
I'll give my brewing vats away,
And buy a case of Bud.

I've lined the walls with plastic, and epoxied all the floors,
Put in ultraviolet lasers to protect the beer from spores.
And everything was going great, the brewing never stopped,
Until Lesley found her walk-in closet completely filled with hops.

Homebrew was a blast until it finally wrecked my life,
I guess ten thousand bottles really aggravates a wife.
And when they started blowing up, they tore the house apart,
Now my baby's gone and wrecked the mash tun of my heart.

Homebrew wrecked my life today,
I've brewed my final batch.
I'll leave behind the homebrew way,
And start a garden patch.

Now I'm on the sidewalk with my last remaining beer,
The neighborhood is quiet, all the windows dark from fear.
A soggy pile of bricks and glass commemorates my house,
And me without a carboy or a siphon or a spouse.

I'm sorry for the state of things, you know I really am.
My passion was excessive, and my plans a little grand.
I'd gladly make it up to her, if I could find some malt,
I'd even name the special beer "It Was At Least Half My Fault".

Homebrew wrecked my life today,
She walked right out that door.
But since my baby's gone to stay,
I might brew just one more...