Why do the best things end
before they ever really start

and the travesties of life
never come far enough apart

And that always bitter taste
is never washed away

by Johnnie Walker Red,
Minervois or Chardonnay

Why did the sun that rose each morning
choose one day not show

And leave me here in darkness
with no place left to go

Does this mean its gone forever
never to return

Will I never feel its warmth again
will I never feel its burn

Or like the phoenix from the ashes
will it rise again reborn

Over a freshly woven landscape
no sign of sorrow, fear or scorn