The bottom of this glass reminds me of memories repeated.
While I sit silently in a smoke filled room.
The stench of depression on the clothes I wore from before.
The soft melody of a song heading straight for my core.
Contemplating the desires of my life.
How do I attain them with out strife?
I put out the cure for my insanity in the ash tray.
But I drink the cause for it in memory of you.