"got a coffee cup full of whiskey, got a broken violin..." -cp
A ghost ship pulling into the harbor,
your perfume still inside my parlor;
you have to care about someone
to bother to say "goodbye".
Your goodbye lullaby is haunting me like a house,
and places that never existed
beyond the syllables of your sadness.
Hold your head up high
as you scrape across the sky
and never come down to the little girls that adore you.
I find myself thinking
before I catch myself drinking,
it is what it is despite what you allude.
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