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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 delivered 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.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019




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