when alcohol gave me a sence of belonging,
The warm glow, the ever present flow of indestructible self belief.
The promised land was the 10 o'clock tram to a place of self destruction.
No blame layed at her door although it was mostly open . I tred on open sores , head telling me more, knowing they've drawn my final curtain.
I promise once again to the voice inside my head, this poison can't be the solution