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He Just Loves the Taste
he watches as the sun slowly dies of the distant horizon
as his lungs slowly die with each long drag he takes
he stops, pauses to consider the situation hes found himself in
yet decides a slow intoxication his best option
with each drink his liver cries as does he
as he finds himself hopeless and helpless
but each drink makes forgetting the pain that much easier
and theres so much pain that he forgets how much he drank to forget
but he tells her hes fine
tells her he just likes the taste
and on and on and on he goes
faking his way through each and every day
now he drinks so much, conciousness is extinct
and ever so present is his blood on the sink
not much to hold onto but the bottle in his hand
and the burning cigarette that hangs from his lips
as it burns out his lungs
hes learned he loves to lie
and he tells her hes fine
and that he just loves the taste
of the gun in his mouth
but hes alright, just fine
