• joallen 5w

    Blame it on the whiskey

    I lay awake, lost in myself,
    My touch, like ice, shivering from the cold. 
    Eyes closed, vivid images come alive,
    This prince of mine, dwells inside. 
    Heart beats loud, wide awake I sleep,
    blame it on the whisky, my soul it takes.
    Softly on the wind it gently rides, 
    A delicate kiss, floating on by. 
    An absent soul, I'm in-love with a dream. 
    Wounds forgot to heal, scares refuse to fade,
    This prince of mine, is not in place.
    Blame it on the whisky. my soul it steals.
    A sad life, A bad life, A mad life.
    In the imagine, I'm wide awake 
    Longing for a touch, lingering in hell. 
    Blame it on the whisky, my prince is dead.
    I
    ©joallen