Resting on her laurels

sipping brandy out the bottle by the bay

she never did grow weary

of day-drinking,

catching buzzes throughout the day

Does she fear that she will change

if she empties all the booze down the drain?

Or maybe that's me thinking

and projecting my own fears

along the way

I could swear that I have peace

on and off whenever I please

but honestly I can see

that it's warfare on repeat

Can't recall an evening

when I didn't end up drowning at the bar

The loneliness is crippling

and memory is frankly just too hard

Do I fear that I will change

if I empty all the booze down the drain?

pretty sure I'm thinking

and protecting my routine

along the way

I could swear that I have peace

on and off whenever I please

but honestly I can see

that it's warfare on repeat

I could swear that I have peace

on and off whenever I please

but honestly I can see

that it's warfare on repeat

on repeat

on repeat