When your tears have gone dry
But you still want to cry
I watch you grab a glass
Grab a drink
Sob and sputter, mutter, sigh.
Long years have robbed you of your joy
And after all you still dream of that boy
That left you lonely
High and dry
To move to another, your heart to destroy.
You’ve found a substitute for human love
Ill-fitting, mitten rather than a glove
You sink in pools of whiskey burning
To stifle love and love-lost yearning
You’re heading home in spirit’s haze, heading home to Lord above.
Morning brings the pain of late-night mourning
Gutrot licks your heart’s old wounds, a warning
Come too late to help you heal
Now hungover, left to deal
With the empty beds of yestermorning.
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