My brother and I never shared a deeper bond.
He was from Oklahoma and my home was never told.
But I can still remember all the words he said to me,
And I can’t still remember the first time I had a drink.
The lights within the city died in front its sleepy sun,
The clouds above my torments quickly tried to turn around.
But I can still remember all the sights given to me,
And I can’t still remember the first time I had a drink.
Every single day in every class I felt I’d drown
With all those silly question whose answers had never shown.
But I can still remember all the giggles behind me,
And I can’t still remember the first time I had a drink.
In my eighteenth Summer I decided to sing along
With every loss I had while I goodbye that empty home.
But I can still remember all the hands that hurt’d me,
And I can’t still remember the first time I had a drink.
I wish I was in covers of the bestest magazines,
Wealthy, rich and famous, just the dopest in the streets;
Instead of lines and needles, vodka shots to make me sleep,
‘cause I can’t still remember the first time I had a drink
I look inside the mirror and I see I’m fully grown.
Syringes, press and money had my voice to keep going on.
But I can now look back, those memories killing me,
And I can now remember why I’d ever have a drink.
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario