Best Bud Gone
Pulsing nights on Westhiemer; running without EZ tag
Is there no relief to the angst of a teenage monster?
Road to nowhere but lights beyond this steel atrocity
I got the keys and you got the yellow pages; time to change history
But you dropped out before the first call, guess that was all; I took the fall,
But it's only six feet, down to reality. And aren't I a self-righteous prick?
Those WEREN'T the days, but I stuck it out, danced with my demons; they cut a mean rug.
Touched down on the strand with my wit and terror, killed by many women, but only one did it just right,
Im only sayin' you coulda sent regards, not no-holes-barred; Guess it ain't in your cards,
The deck you had declared war on me, but it's all good, caught in your killing spree.
Kinda funny the only one you killed was me; Ryan found himself I suppose, he always was a loner.
The house you had now just a relic in bygone time of guitar solos and moldy pizza,
You and your dumbass gun craze; all I need is a sharp tongue and I'm deadly,
Just lying to myself now, with the wish for amends, but that road's weed-choked and chained off,
And here I stand in the silence of ten years gone; this old friendship a rotted, maggot strewn mess,
But we both passed the test, I wish you the best; heard you got the stork strangling your ass......
Guess those guitar solos paid off.
Copyright © Robert Chirino 3rd | Year Posted 2016
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