January
It surely had me on the mats.
Dead a buried
Somewhere drifitng through the past
9th & Perry
We'd grab a rack and then head back
Who knew we'd carry?
The cost of all those nights we had
I was not better then
I lived unfettered then
The loss was raw, I'm sorry Ma
It's hard to find a friend
Down for whatever man
When it was gone
I packed up all my shit and move home
Home. Your bones.
They broke like porcelain underneath all that weight
But I saved
a little morself from all the days I can't escape
that place
will always course a little it bit through all my veins
and I'll take
whatever fortune I can obtain and embrace
About the Creator
Patrick O'Neill
I am a NW born & bred composer and writer currently living in Seattle, WA with my wife and two dogs. When I am giving my ears a break I enjoy writing about politics, social issues, race and everything else that keeps me up at night.
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