The grip in my hands will soon loose
and I'll fall into a quiet preferred
because after thought the path I'll choose
will be the way of a coward.

I'm tired of wasting lonely nights
with a bottle by my side
letting the sorrows of past's frights
play throughout my mind.

The tears have never stopped
whether it's inside or for the eyes
and putting on a brave faced opt  
would just unbury old lies

I'm tired and I'm over
the dragging on depression
you put me here without sober
into your lashing out aggression.

Their will be no regret
when I finally let go
of what little is left
of my life tomorrow.