I am with the outlaw
at the local bar
the blenders are showcasing their pride
And the local provider just died,
The seat adjacent is taken
silver hair and a life gone by,
but there is truth in his eyes
and an old song in his heart and he cries
Fake are we
invading his territory
with black and grey shirts
and of money, there is no dearth
Cigarettes lie vertical
and gravity is perpectual
there is no room for the truth
and its time now for the absolute
Forgive me father
for I have not sinned
Just consumed the golden nectar
And its me who is burned
One day when time has had its way
Maybe there will be an old man
sitting at the local bar
having thoughts from afar
Hoping, cursing, feeling
living, dying, seeing
and regretting through another eye
all in an hour
The whiskey has gone sour..........