Day or night, I hear your cries filled with desperation, longing to be free.
Alcohol, like a siren, screams out your name. Promising temporary relief, but leaving you much the same. blackouts and thirst, those shakes take their toll.
Yet still, the craving persist deep within your soul.
You seek refuge in alcohol to find a drunken embrace,
but this respite is just a fleeting grace.
You seek this joy in alcohol to drown your sorrow.
But this old happiness is times of borrowed.
A fleeting moment.
A moment in drunkenness, that only amplifies your depression.
And on such gloomy days admits the tears and the grey.
You turn...