The Bottle

The Bottle He walked down and empty alley, with a bottle in his hand His face was old and rugged From the rough life that he had lived The bottle lead him to this point and brought him to his knees But he always had the simple choice to let go, to be set free He was a friend like a brother and we hung around the bars I'd drink a few but his was more And I saw he could not stop It got to the point where all the fun was drained from my good friend I chose another path and sobered up and walked away from him And he never took the option To walk the straight and narrow road The whiskey bottle held him tight never to let go The pain got into his soul, it's sting he could not bare He took a big slug off the bottle and put the gun to his head Because he never took the option To walk the straight and narrow road For the whiskey bottle held him never to let go Now the bottle does not hold him and the pain he no longer feels That rot gut whiskey bottle has finally set him free David Gary Pennington