He smelled of old whisky,
Like the kind my daddy took with his tea.
His body was ripped,underneath the rudiculous layers of clothes he wore,
I can testify his body, just like his eyes was hardened by years of war after war, the first time I was hugging Nathan.
The second time I was hugging Nathan,
He smelled of pain,
His jacket didn't have that whisky smell anymore,
This time it smelled of death,
The stench bringing tears to my eyes.
The last time I hugged Nathan,
he was in a coffin,
They were taking my soldier down below,
I was wearing his whisky jacket,
But it wasn't the old whisky,
It was the whisky I spilled, while I drank myself to stupor those nights, we heard no word from Nathan,
It was the whisky I drank now, as I sunk into oblivion.