Rest your finger on the trigger

 It's cold here.
Here, in this place
where sorrows can be traded for a shot
of your spirit of preference.
It is here, where men try to forget
of all they have lost,
and what they've failed to achieve
And it is here I sit
simply just another man
with his sorrow mixed
with every drink I order.

Stinging, burning my throat
and lighting a fire in my chest.
I've knocked one too many back
and I'm close to passing out
Home,
I never really cared,
it's just a fucking house.
Creaking with every step
of loss, and death.
I pay my dues, and I leave the Bar.
Heading out through the back,
I make my way to my car.
I struggle with putting the key in the ignition,
and I find it's home,
and twist,
bringing life to hulking metal.

Slip it into reverse I back up into a street light,
as if I give a fuck,
I still have Euan's picture taped to the dash.
it pulls my attention.
I hit the M4 Motorway,
and flog my car to 180 km's
tears drop from my eyes
blurring my vision
I extend my arm
and pull Euan's picture from the dash
Kissing it I turn my attention to the road
and turn into oncoming traffic
a Semi trailer hurtles into me,
Head first I'm thrown through the windscreen,
and shatter my skull,
and dragged across the concrete.
I died with a smile of acceptance
I'm coming home
just wait for me in Heaven
I'll be there soon enough