On the crest of a wave or crest of a slump;
It don’t matter anyway, its time to get drunk.
When she’s here I don’t want her, gone, leaves a hole;
No rest in this body for this tortured soul.
Last night was electric – who turned the lights off;
Hide away this morning, my life’s in a trough.
Just one more bottle ought to do the trick;
Take away my pain and put way the stick.
Tomorrow seems distant, just drink away the past;
Facing yesterday’s oblivion staring in the glass.
Who’s gonna hear me and who’s gonna care;
Looking in the mirror at my ghost standing there.
Death’s a better option than living with this fear;
Shaking every morning, because of yester-year.
The invisible lady got a price I cannot pay;
Cursing my misfortune in the bar room every day.
The predator in the bottle is my fatal concoction;
Once the cork is popped, there is no other option.
Eases into my bloodstream, numbs hurts and old pains;
Clouding my mind and my unrelenting, tortured brain.
So there stands the glass with my obituary in draft;
It’s years since I remember a genuine laugh.
God if you’re out there, get me out of this hole;
Intervene in the destruction of this tortured soul.