Well lookin back it seems i think little  somethin
always beat's a whole lotta nothin.
The road at night is a mystery  yerning to remain unsolved.

No direction sometimes  seems better than the reallity of
a dead in street.
Burnt out  from pills and *****.
A head that pounds with a steady rythym of
of past failures and false starts.

As in bottles we seek answers to the unasked questions
of the dammed soul and promising lie.
Four walls  a asylum  or a hotel of your choosing.

Last times regret cant match tonights need.
Burnt emotions frozen feelings.
A great  lie love is dellusion  a drug for the
junkies soul.

Cold even on a mid summers night.
I paint in colors of a doomed nature.
Void yet alluring to the naked eye.

Like a records unclear sound the flaws are what
make it true.
This writers  fire has all but faded.
I ask does that glass appear  half empty to you?