I've never been so stressed,
Born to Christians,
but never have been blessed,
Born to Catholics,
Never once did I confess,
But I now have a confession,
I'm not the man im yet to be,
Not the man,
My family thinks they see,
In reality a pretender,
In all honesty a ***,
Do not return to sender,
Do not ask me where I'm from.
Because I've lived too many places,
Shook too many hands,
Seen a lot of faces,
But never kept my friends.
A web spun by the fates,
But as of late,
It's just whiskey to the brain,
Old fashion's so I'm sane,
And too many cigarettes to calculate,
I'm just too drunk too operate,
Just imagine and I'll illustrate,
It's Saint paddys and I'm parched,
I grab a bottle for the thirst,
Its rough but it's the first,
And then goes down the second,
The third, the fourth
The fifth and then the sixth,
The room is spinning,
Face the mirror and I'm grinning,
Face myself but can't look,
Like the last sentence in a book,
I hope there's a sequel to this novel,
Maybe even a trilogy,
I apologize for my soliloquy,
But I do digress,
There are truths to confess,
I'd like to never be my father,
Or to have kids before I'm thirty,
I'd like a home that isn't *****,
And a wife that will forgive me,
For smoking like a chimney,
After all I'm only but a man,
Who makes mistakes along the way,
But the way to hell,
Is paved with good intentions,
and I intend to live in peace,
Somewhere quiet, full of trees,
Away from the noise,
Drugs, guns and the disease,
Call me what you want,
I just want to be at ease,
Head up high, stand up tall,
As I drop my demons to their knees.