Hey old friend, it's been a while.
You know, I've almost missed you,
were it not for these bruises and cuts.
I guess they give me some style,
but they still hurt, they hurt lots.
You remember that last time?
Strangely enough, I do.
Looking at your golden eyes,
I remember I had not a dime.
I had drank them all, served on ice.
I knew each sip was a mistake,
I ain't about to lie to ya.
Your 18 years mixed well with regret,
an interesting blend you two make.
And I've tried many, on that you can bet.
What is it in you that makes me pissed?
Is it the grain? The oak?
It's as if you gather my angers,
and everything becomes enveloped in mist.
It all turns wreckable, no thought of danger.
Well I guess it ain't always so,
we've sung some nice blues, you and I.
I recall that one time, no food and no light,
we jammed for a good hour or so.
Twelve bars in repetition, just songs, no fights.
And not too long ago, at monday's dawn.
We said goodbye to my home, us both.
I saved you for that time.
In a way you were all that there went wrong.
In a way you were the final word in that rhyme.
An empty hall sorrounded us.
A cold, bare floor supported us.
My heavy heart called you, and you came.
We played a few licks, we ended the game.
It's been a while, old friend.
Gracias por leer!
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