Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2011
Come gather round people, wherever you are
And hear this last song I play on my guitar
I've made one too many trips to the bar
And my voice is rapidly fading.
And the whiskey has gone straight to my head...
And these strings, they need a changing.
(goodnight)
Written by
Timothy Mooney
592
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems