WHISKEY CAN'T MAKE ME CRY
© July 13, 2022, Written by: The Depressed Poet Doc Dalton
Time seems to quickly pass, now that your gone
For me, days are painful as I try to hold on
Confused by what I feel and amused by what my mind lets me see
Self-abused because I just can't seem to set myself free
The unstoppable talks within myself over you
Many questions to answers, hell I already knew
This pain runs so dam deep, like I never felt before
From that moment you left, to knock on Heaven's door
What will I do, or even worse, what can I say?
Who will I talk to - to help get me through my days?
Who will be there on those cold and lonely nights?
To hold me, love me and make me feel, all will be alright
Now I'm chasing broken down dreams, ones that will never come true
With shattered feelings surrounded by Preachers, Cigarettes, Tattoos, and Fools
With a bottle in my hand and a sadness deep within my eyes
I beg you Lord, please help me, cause even Whiskey can't make me cry
As I struggle to see it clearly now as I fight through this daily haze
Buried by a maze of confusion that now covers my days
Maybe just one last scream, one last tear, hell even one last sigh
I beg you Lord, please help me, cause even Whiskey can't make me cry
© July 13, 2022, Written by: The Depressed Poet Doc Dalton
Time seems to quickly pass, now that your gone
For me, days are painful as I try to hold on
Confused by what I feel and amused by what my mind lets me see
Self-abused because I just can't seem to set myself free
The unstoppable talks within myself over you
Many questions to answers, hell I already knew
This pain runs so dam deep, like I never felt before
From that moment you left, to knock on Heaven's door
What will I do, or even worse, what can I say?
Who will I talk to - to help get me through my days?
Who will be there on those cold and lonely nights?
To hold me, love me and make me feel, all will be alright
Now I'm chasing broken down dreams, ones that will never come true
With shattered feelings surrounded by Preachers, Cigarettes, Tattoos, and Fools
With a bottle in my hand and a sadness deep within my eyes
I beg you Lord, please help me, cause even Whiskey can't make me cry
As I struggle to see it clearly now as I fight through this daily haze
Buried by a maze of confusion that now covers my days
Maybe just one last scream, one last tear, hell even one last sigh
I beg you Lord, please help me, cause even Whiskey can't make me cry
A LITTLE BOY
(c) August 2022, Written by, The Depressed Poet, Doc Dalton
He's just a little boy, lost who walks the streets
A shoeless child with nowhere to sleep
A crack whore mom and a no show dad
A child so young hell, he's already mad
Though young, he knows the tricks of the trade
To survive this life, for even one more day
A constant struggle, just to survive
A ghetto life, one he can't denied
Selling his body at such a tender age
To fill his belly for yet another day
As night time comes, it starts over again
A recycled life, that just has no end
He walks the streets for what seems miles
To escape a life not right for a child
Tonight, he'll be out there hustling once again
For this boy has no beginning, and sadly No end
He much wiser for his years and so his business expands
Into a trade for his buyers, of a constant supply and demand
A business whose products, are full of cocaine and weed
And that routine has now become part of his daily deed
The money is better and life seems cool
But it's a part time path to a life full of ruin
He's now walking down a path that will lead him to hell
With his hands cuffed behind him, it's now a car ride to jail
It's 3 to 5 in a house full of thugs
Professors in crime with a master in drugs
Prison life not easy, don't be fooled by their ways
There are rules by the masters and a price you must pay
His time has been served and this boy is now a man
Back on the streets doing all that he can
After 5 years in jail, what a price he has paid
A tough guy by choice, who is now a man with aids
It's the same old story
Of a life that might have been
From a boy who roamed those streets
To a life time sentence of a deadly sin
So, remember this little boy tonight
When you say your prayers
There are countless kids just like him
Who walk the street, so unaware?
Thank the Lord for the ones that you have
Because they are only a few step away
For having the life that little boy had
Could be your child's, on any given day
(c) August 2022, Written by, The Depressed Poet, Doc Dalton
He's just a little boy, lost who walks the streets
A shoeless child with nowhere to sleep
A crack whore mom and a no show dad
A child so young hell, he's already mad
Though young, he knows the tricks of the trade
To survive this life, for even one more day
A constant struggle, just to survive
A ghetto life, one he can't denied
Selling his body at such a tender age
To fill his belly for yet another day
As night time comes, it starts over again
A recycled life, that just has no end
He walks the streets for what seems miles
To escape a life not right for a child
Tonight, he'll be out there hustling once again
For this boy has no beginning, and sadly No end
He much wiser for his years and so his business expands
Into a trade for his buyers, of a constant supply and demand
A business whose products, are full of cocaine and weed
And that routine has now become part of his daily deed
The money is better and life seems cool
But it's a part time path to a life full of ruin
He's now walking down a path that will lead him to hell
With his hands cuffed behind him, it's now a car ride to jail
It's 3 to 5 in a house full of thugs
Professors in crime with a master in drugs
Prison life not easy, don't be fooled by their ways
There are rules by the masters and a price you must pay
His time has been served and this boy is now a man
Back on the streets doing all that he can
After 5 years in jail, what a price he has paid
A tough guy by choice, who is now a man with aids
It's the same old story
Of a life that might have been
From a boy who roamed those streets
To a life time sentence of a deadly sin
So, remember this little boy tonight
When you say your prayers
There are countless kids just like him
Who walk the street, so unaware?
Thank the Lord for the ones that you have
Because they are only a few step away
For having the life that little boy had
Could be your child's, on any given day
