T O T

We tip the glass to the tortures of time A whiskey kiss for gentle lips The savage decay of a loveless shrine We toast to hearts as broken as our own The glasses clink and gulps sink Every one of us cold as stone We fill the void that ripped through our soul As if today we wish to say God has deliver vered us out of this hole We tip the glass to the tortures of time The whiskey is gone, it’s time to move on Let go of the anger, it keeps us confined D.R.L.