Broken Dreams and Broken Bottles

That smell
I recognize that smell
The smell of empty promises, no
Could it be the smell of a thousand doors slamming, no
What is that smell that burns my nose,
Seeps into my pores,
Erases any good memory I've ever had of you
Could it be Eugene, my brother who you left to die,
Or Michael, dear Michael who’s money you stole
Out every night burning our only dole
But as I smell closer
I realize that it is nothing but the smell of whisky
That’s all we ever smell anymore
I thought I’d be the first to tell you, Dad
That Mom doesn’t want to see you right now
You sicken her with your bingeful ways
Why does she still love you, Dad?
Why does she still love you?

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