It’s nights like these where I wonder most what alcohol tastes like.
That if I ran now, could I make it?
Nights where I don’t care to wonder if tomorrow will come.
Only wonder if I’d be better off if it didn’t.
And I think to myself, it’s not fair to him.
After all he’s done, to want to run away.
How selfish could I be?
That if I ran tonight, to want to take him with me.
But I know he’s tired of running.
And I’m tired too.
Hung over by sobered thoughts that make the consequences of getting drunk seem like less of a burden to bear.
But then I think to myself and it’s just not fair.
Wanting to be lost in this search to be found.
I just want to be broken and rebuilt on steadier ground.
And I’ve already got the broken part down.
So I wonder if I ran now,
could I make it?