Your skin and heart is with life asunder,
As cold as you had dreamt it.
All the sins you loved to plunder
Brought no more glee than death did.

Youth left your heart, poor in time
To show you how to grasp it.
You deemed it weak within its prime
So you scorn what were your best bits.

But busy a mind does not mean restful
And your work just stalled the war.
Besieged, you changed to vengeful
And chased your pleasure no more.

Now chase the bottle as not a tool
But a crutch with which to live on.
You live apart within your cesspool
With which you'll always cling on.

But came the day you sobered up
And saw the love you hated.
Mixed those pills with what was left
And soon, your name was dated.