When I met you we were young and like gasoline to matches; waking up drunk, sleeping through your early classes. I grew up and grew dull and you say you wished I hadn’t but I’m drunk again and you’re guilty like you’re irish catholic. You ain’t no saint. I ain’t one either. I guess that’s why I’m lying here. I know that I’m banged up. I got bruises I can’t place. I keep coughing out blood. I’ve got a gut full of ulcers. They’re gonna burn out like dead stars — turn to dust. If you’re coming here alone, then there’s nowhere else to go. So, when I walk in, they know I’m alone. Dig your anchors in my bones. Keep your breathing soft and slow. It’s freezing. I made a blanket from my coat. It gets freezing here after dark. I’m searching the car for my dad’s old Bills hat, passed down in ’93. It never got far from me. He moved to the island from upstate and he’d spend Sunday watching the game with me, explaining everything. We’d watch Jim Kelly lead the way and If my dad was here I wonder what he’d say. If my dad was here I wonder if he’d even recognize me. I’m fucking begging.
Статистика страницы на pesni.guru ▼
Просмотров сегодня: 1
Гуру Песен