fighting (Remove filter)
The Tug of Depression
The tug of depression
It was always there
It's my greates lesson
That life wasn't mean to be fair
It's the shackles on my legs
The clouds over my head
It's the dead of the night
Never far from sight
It's the weight holding me down
Turning the smile into a frown
It's the whiskey I didn't need
Making me think I'm free
It's my monotone life
Making me scared of the highs
It's the prison ...
Sunday 30th July 2017 2:30 pm
Recent Comments
Clare on Man With the Big Set of Keys.
34 minutes ago
Red Brick Keshner on Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh
3 hours ago
TobaniNataiella on Man With the Big Set of Keys.
4 hours ago
John Marks on POLICING THE LANGUAGE
5 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The War on the West
6 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on I Will Not Wear The Baggy Trousers Of Old Age.
6 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on I Will Not Wear The Baggy Trousers Of Old Age.
6 hours ago
David RL Moore on The last laureates
8 hours ago
Tom Doolan on If Only
8 hours ago
David RL Moore on The War on the West
9 hours ago