The Wreckage. . One broken bottle. One broken man. Drenched in a bourbon perfume. Just rocking away. In my dady's chair. Paying the devil his dues. . Feel Like I'm goin down with the wreckage.
Forgiveness. Makes fools. Of all. Of us. . Alone to face. A hostile place. A moment's peace ain't coming. . The constant cold. Cracking your bones. The stench of life worth living.
Laying awake in bed. So many thoughts run through my head. Wondering when my turn will come. But the last thing that I want to seem. Is ungrateful for the little things.