I got so drunk that I worried that I might not find my way home. After I drank some more, I realized that I likely never knew the way in the first place. But I knew that I’d been in love. And that I’d been out of it too.
The doctor told me that I drink too much. But I told him that if he only knew, I could never drink enough.
It wasn’t very long ago that every night I would sit at the edge of my bed and pray for the world. I prayed for you and I prayed for me. The world, I could see it and feel it, would get better each day. It was only me that fell behind.
It happened a little at a time. One loss at a time. One defeat. Another heartbreak. God saved the world. God damned my soul.
So keep all of your songs. Hold them tight within your hearts. Sing them loud with smiles on your faces. If you find a lover’s hand in yours, bring it to your mouth and close your eyes as you kiss it warm, wet and sweet.
Don’t worry about looking back. Don’t worry about what may come, good or bad. None of it will matter. Drink or do not. Doesn’t matter either.
Push the button. Wait for the doors to open. Wait to go up, or to go down again. Wait for love. Or wait for the pain to go away. But don’t wait for nothing. That’s the worse kind of sin.
The night is creeping in, as the sun sneaks away. In the dusk, I am alone in my apartment with only more and more to drink. If not for the little glass that holds my lovely tequila, there’d be nothing for me to kiss good night.