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Jun 2016
Wake up on the bed with three girls sound asleep
Stare at the ceiling for an hour
The Whiskey bottle lies near my face
Best get up and get a shower
The syringe lies on the floor
My arms are white with dots of red
It's a miracle I suppose
That's my hearts not decided it's dead
Rehearsing at five this evening
I'll throw the ladies out then
Then go and see the wife at home
She has a bad taste in men
My father has left me a message
Telling me I'm such a disgrace
Well wait till we have a hit again
Wipe that smile of his fat ugly face
Pastor James Jackson what a lovely man
Hypocrite on the quiet
The things I could tell about him
Would cause the press to start a riot
I remember when I came down for breakfast
And he held my mothers head in the sink
Told me to leave the room
He was hurting her I think
I'm depressed thinking about it now
Last years bike crash was a near miss
But today I might just end it all
And then give my lovely mother a kiss
Written by
Andrew James Shepherd  Burnage
(Burnage)   
347
   --- and Keith Wilson
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