Author Information
One Sip Of The Past
Folder:
June 2013 One walk in the bar, all seats are filled,
still cleaning up last nights blood spilled,
here in the wild west it's hard not to
get into an argument, almost shot too,
or maybe fall in love and climb on out,
get trapped at the bottom, scream and shout,
no one but you can let yourself out,
time to move on and forget all doubt,
sit at the seat in the darkest corner,
sip my whiskey and think of the horrors,
that haunt my mind every single second,
they no longer need one name to be mentioned,
low on attention, high on the past,
in my own detention, time won't last,
ask the questions and answer in paths,
that you travel with only one sip of the past.
