a cold monday night that led to a colder tuesday morning
its always been a sore spot for me
ever since ive broken my hand and others teeth alike
backyard brawling over stupid shit
they'd say the wrong thing and they'd get hit
id almost never win, but i wouldnt give up
mud, blood and tears
i think it was because they created my worst fears
he was a hero in my eyes, lies nor truth could change that
afterwards my mum would always ask why, but she never needed to.
i dont even know what the last words i said to him were.
but on his grave are the last words his best friend said to him
"slán go fóill, mo chara"
to me thats poetic, if you dont know it means "Goodbye my friend"
i cant remember the last time i saw him,
i cant remember what his voice sounded like
is it sad or crazy
that i talk to him, just odd things juring the day
and when im piss drunk i tell him i miss him
when i had the accident i said he was looking out for me
he died in a similar way,
ive his name tattooed on my shoulder in elvish
not that he liked lord of the rings, because i dont think he did
well im done ranting, and i thank you if youve read thus far
