Searching eyes

Searching eyes, Slicing the crevices of my soul, Piercing the depth of my sanity, Heating my smile with hot chunks of coal, All I need is clarity, The boatman becoming the richest of all. Searching eyes, How many pints can you drink,? What's the brew in the gourd? And the stench in the sink? The broad hide on the broad? Quietus becoming the merriest of all. Searching eyes, I see the birth of geometric death, I see the conception of grieve so sour, I see tears of wide girth, Will I awaken from this slumber tour?