GOOD OLE DAYS
At times when it is raining,
I find myself just thinking
back to the "good ole days"
of my heavy whiskey drinking
Oh, there was a lot of laughing
along with tears from crying
and I can clearly remember
bouts of self-pity and whining
Soul-searching hours of writing,
long nights with constant fighting;
so many times seeking privacy,
I found myself just hiding.
Make believe dreams and planning
thoughts of suicide and plotting
without a doubt I could tell
my life was slowly rotting
I chose straight bottle drinking
with reasoning for my thinking
because if I mixed the poison
it was sure to lead to puking
Countless time spent denying,
periods of cheating and lying
no feelings of guilt or shame
I was the master of justifying
Oh, I had my reasons for quitting
those "good ole days" of drinking
it makes me wonder what the hell
back then I must have been thinking