No, he didn’t drink to lose himself
He drank to find himself.
On those blurry nights,
At the bottom of the glass
The veil of practicality lifted from reality
And he could meet the side of his
That lived on the other side.
No, he didn’t drink to lose himself
He drank to find himself.
On those blurry nights,
At the bottom of the glass
The veil of practicality lifted from reality
And he could meet the side of his
That lived on the other side.
