At the end of the creation

Where is the tail of this thing
It seems to go on forever
It doesn't use punctuation
It runs and runs and on and on
With clauses connected to causes
And firsts connected to fifths
Of vodka and rhyme schemes
A cocktail that will ruin your
Next morning we're at the end
Of the night but again we do not
Know where the head is even looking
Closely at where the hair seems to 
Be growing so we so and so to go
And go along the road to creation