Just another endless drink of whisky
Sinking like another sunset
Then the sharpness of the pain begins to fade;
Like a friendly favourite anaesthetic
Numbing heartache and the sadness
Of another stupid mess that I have made.
I can sit here in the dusky shadows
Of a half-deserted barroom
Where nobody gives a damn about my name;
I can alter my susceptible perceptions
With the alcohol deceivers
Yet tomorrow when I wake is still the same.
Just another boring tale at bedtime
Told to no one there at all,
When the pity in the words begin to ache;
I could tell it on the misty mountain,
I could yell it to the crying moon
Or pretend this failing heart will never break;
I would never have believed it,
I have fallen hard once again
When I swore that I had learned my lessons well;
There’s no more reason to examine
For in an idealistic soul
The fatal seed of certain downfall always dwell.
Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2005
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