All the young punks pouring hours into bars and staring into vacancies as thick and black as tar, where we'll fall face first into the same traps that have slain our father's names.
Why romanticize a lifestyle that results in a gain for the industry of addiction when we just can't escape from the global reach of the men who seek to make pay dirt from the earth around our early graves? They're pulling profit from the diseased without shame.
Our community's propensity towards the enabling of self-destructive tendency is always leaving me asking why we:
Bathe these crimes against us in the warmest, softest light
Hold holy the chemical sting
Sing of our bar-stool rites
Deify and glamorize the bottle that's been drowning out tonight
There's an unrelenting shadow with an omnipresent touch that waits to suffocate us once we're finally numb enough. There's a losing side to boozer's pride that needs to be discussed.
Future lungs and livers all deserve at least that much.