Crashing To The Floor

Opens his hand, reads his name,
grabs the bottle and swallows again.
Thinks of the wife he's left behind,
touches the photo and closes his eyes.
Thinks of the time where he walked from the street.
Under the light and killed a man dead.
A chroí dearg, stad do bhualadh, tá mé gan dóchas
(my red heart stop beating, I am without hope).
Whiskey burned memories come crashing to the floor.
For each one that's gone there's twenty-five more
that'll burn him and crush him right through to the core.
He's filled with the thoughts of those gone before.
He opens his mouth and all that comes out
is a fractured song from a fractured heart.
He grabs the bottle and swallows again,
picks up the blade that's singing his name.