Ghost and his point of view ( not sober – pt. 22 )
Regardless of what they say
I tried to walk my way
with a empty bottle like a old friend
unsteadily, errating my steps
broken my “old friend” like a cheap glass
but, it is so normal, isn’t?
everything broken, everything lack
lack of importance, lack of relevance
we want gold, but we worth less than brass
that’s why we only listen a large doses of “cracks”
the sound of our heart broken
the sound of our consciousness, dead and rotten
“please, gimme another old friend?”
fiend, fiend, fiend!!!
maybe this is one vendetta
I can’t find
the label of my last best friend
horse or walker,
I need that taste of sour
hours, hours that we spend, without sense…our?
my mind-blowing already find the last redemption
epiphany of cartase of this moment sober
I need a old friend sooner