Heaven’s not waiting for me
I’ve got a dinner date with Satan
At the bottom of the sea.

I’ve been writing words
Alone, in the early hours
Of the morn.
But every time I do
They always just turn
Into letters to you,

And I,

I know I made mistakes
But you know we all do.

I wish I could say
That I’m sick of writing you
And Captain I’m sorry
It’s you I should’ve listened to.

But if at some point
I can stop writing about you
It’ll be the day that I drown
Under the weight of the ocean
Or the bottle laced with misery.

We stopped in Mexico
I had a glass of tequila
The taste didn’t leave my mouth
For six long weeks
So I’m wondering how much longer
I’ll have to cover the taste
That you left there.

So in summary, my dear,
I still love you.
And possibly even more so
I still hate you.

At this point,
All I really need
Is a decent night’s sleep
Without the bottle
At my side.

Honesty never fit you.
Not like that dark dress of deception does.
Oh, Deceiver,
What I’d give to be deceived again.