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And they will loose their agape mouth,
as i stagger back the road to my house.
They will lean on wall and speak in just,
as if they are angels born without flaws
No one knows why i live my life in bottles,
no one listen to my cry at night in shuffle.
A man that came from mountain to hill,
Sentenced even to the bottom of valley.
Who told my wife of this cold weather?,
When she packed her blankets and exiled.
Let anyone with allergy to an happy life,
strip me off honour and call me drunkard.
If beer can last me a day moment of joy,
then wine will sure serve me bits more.
and if it’s true too much of alcohol kills
then it’s peace knowing i will die in peace.
Even God cannot damn me a Drunkard,
because he saw life derailed me off track,
Since everyone is too mighty to save me,
I shall drink till cork of bottles hate me.
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