Broken inside and crying in the night.
Another lover gone.
Another bottle of alcohol in your hand,
that you hope will make everything alright,
but you are wrong,
and on this lonely path,
you will never make amends,
or yourself very happy for very long,
and although you can pretend,
you can pretend everything is alright with a bottle in hand,
through drunken eyes your problems will be magnified,
and the time of your death,
it will probably be soon to come,
but I pray you do your best, to cling to life,
but it is as unlikely as the death of the night,
and eternal living of the sun.
