How much is your soul worth?



This is the question you decide to ask



As you gulp the Moonshine from the stranger's flask



You close your eyes and see your life in a flash



You sit on the cold, soiled concrete



Listening to the quietness that comes with defeat.



You hate yourself but point the finger



At everyone else, hoping your anguish won't linger.



You feign innocence and ignorance as if all the bad will disappear.



You use ***, drugs, and Moonshine to dry your tears



But on nights like this, the truth is hard to shake



So you stay out late and overuse yourself til you quake



Then the moon and the stars shine down on you



And you feel sorry for yourself as sorry people do.



Nothing is left inside of you; you're hollow



You're on your own, you're bent and spent; no direction to follow.



There's no point in asking how much your soul is worth



When clarity has come to you and the answer has already been unearthed.