Where the fuck did that come from
A trace of last nights gin, or perhaps last years sin?
A thought of a girl that got away
More likely a memory of one that chose to stay
Who the fuck knows
Rain falls, the feeling grows
A whirling vortex,days of falling prices
Nights of appeasing degenerate vices
Traces of thoughts of wasted chances
Mixed with up recall of the horizontal dances
That would lead once again to my demise
A blur of cards and broads and booze
Not very wise
A wet trial of formerly unfelt remorse?
Regret over the path of lifes course?
Fuck that, I don’t have the time for it
Just one day,one moment that’s tastes like shit
After all markets usually rally ,.and prices rise
and bars always open, a true degenrate never cries
fuck a tear