The open window, a temptation for wings.
Sweet angel seduced by the purest nectar of the stars,
Your arms two cocoons of wings,
The gravel, the weeds, the cricket that sings all mark the path,
"Flee, Flee, Don't ever look back"
Yet your pour the smooth liquor in your glass,
one,two,three,five,ten it never ends. . .
The smell of cigars and upholstered leather, cling to the horror of the solitude as you take your last breath. .
All you are remembered for is "he was just a drunk"