Sunday, August 16, 2015

4 o'clock

4 o'clock
It's 4 o'clock
I said I wouldn't start drinking
'Til 4 o'clock

The clocks hits 4
I start to pour
How many days
Until I stop

But at 4 o'clock
Yes 4 o'clock
The wine gets opened
at 4 o'clock

First one bottle goes down
Then the other, easy now
Then shot after shot
Until I fall

Until 2 o'clock
Suddenly it's 2 o'clock
The night winds on
But the fun is all gone

At 2 o'clock
Now it's 2 o'clock
Have to get into bed
Despite my swimming head

How many times more
Until I'm dead

It all started at 4 o'clock


What this is about:

When I used to drink, I would always set the magical time of 4PM as the time after which I could start drinking. I always promised myself it would be just one glass of wine, maybe two, together with a home-cooked meal - but somehow, the one or two glasses always turned into one or two bottles, followed by hard liquor. The next thing I knew, it would be the wee hours of the morning, and I would have to face the fact that once again, despite my best intentions, I had become hopelessly, haplessly drunk - but this never seemed to make me give up hope that next time, the story might have a different ending. 

No comments:

Post a Comment