413.
I lone-drink myself
To sleep each bleak weekday night,
Just as you once did
414.
It is a mistake
To think that we are the same,
For I was drinking
415.
Poetry and rhyme,
Whereas you drank your future
Down a hair’s dead-end.
413.
I lone-drink myself
To sleep each bleak weekday night,
Just as you once did
414.
It is a mistake
To think that we are the same,
For I was drinking
415.
Poetry and rhyme,
Whereas you drank your future
Down a hair’s dead-end.