Stagger

It's 11:39
I awake with 3/4
drink in hand
it's a strong one
the smell of whiskey
reminds me of black licorise
[how ever the hell you spell it]
heartburn with ice
I dream of whiskey
and my younger years
now that's hardly a nightmare
she says
you were asleep
come back
to bed
I gotta write
it's on my mind
and nothing good
has come out of me lately
and she snores
and I write
and drink
and think
about creating
a
radio station with Bob
and all us wise asses
all us fuckers
with something
to say
everyone of my
friends who
hide
beneath the sheets
who the fuck are we
afraid of?
the loss of fucking?
Not me
I aint afraid of shit
put it all out there
the wife has heard it all
and I aint afraid of no one else
So give me some juice
when the
tap runs dry
cause
me and Ede are startn' a radio station
somewhere
deep in the bush
where
bad looks can't be seen.
So now they will
have to listen
or close their ears
cause we got a lot to say
and my ice aint melted yet

Fuck
I'm glad she woke me
as she climbed
into bed
and I'll exchange the dark
for darkness
and hunger
for pain
and booze for the one
I love
it's all in the trip

here it comes again
I got it back again
where the sky falls
I will fall
upon
broken angels wings
I'm almost young
but then
everyone was drunk on love
and the fright
of death
or better off not to think
about it
or the cause

now we work and please
for the feast of the memory
or the blue in the sky
Fuck i don't know
what to say
through all we've done bad
I know there is good in
a
drunken stagger