Time flies, that’s what they say right?
But the alcohol still has its bite
and the drugs still have their haze
I’m walking hour to hour in a daze,
of what could have been,
should have been,
and would have been.
I’ve started drinking straight gin,
no time for the tonic, but we were toxic.
Maybe that’s why I like it, I take another swing and tell the movers ‘box it.’
How’s this the right thing,
when I’m still hurting and it’s spring.
The drinks no longer numb me,
I just want to feel free
but I don’t know how to move on,
at the end of the day I’m drunk, and you’re still gone.
Whiskey reminds me of you,
its burn is welcomed, right on cue.
I’m latching onto the bottle, wishing this wouldn’t be so hard to swallow.
I’m tired of you making me feel so hollow.
So I’m starting to play your favorite game of pretend,
telling myself that everything will be okay in the end.
