Aches off the coast of your dying heart
Wallow in darkening corners of my eyes
My shifting conscience begs of you forgiveness
Sourly settling into this big-ol-comfy couch
Do not wallow in misery that follows choices
Gaining entrance into back rooms of smokey bars
Cold glasses and top shelf stuff
Free lap dances all night long
Revel in freedom’s advances
Hit the high notes like a 9 year old choir boy
Smoke the last cigarette until the last duck call doesn’t work
And then we shall reign victorious
For deep within the advances of your grieving heart
Rests a moth, fluttering it’s wings
Preparing for the coming months ahead
Where you too shall learn to fly like a butterfly