"Here we go again"

Here we are again,

my treacherous friend,

I’ll write a few words,

just like you did then…

I love these cold streets

they are pleasant for talk

there’s a whisper in breeze

that don’t judge when I’m broke

I like to sit by the river

when shame throws me down

bench is near casino

where this punk got his crown

I bought a few bottles

of cheapest red vine

first was little heavy

but after second was fine

after hour of two,

I’m back in my bed

I’m drunk again early

and your words stabs my head

What I have become

I asked myself

why there’s blood on the floor

and your gun on the shelf?

I still see those words,

and feel that pain of deception

you are killing my soul,

but that wasn’t your attention….