You talk of drinking and drugs
Like its no big deal.
While my mind screams:
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
You tell me stories of your past,
Tales from police dramas and mystery novels.
I begin to see the world in a different light, looking through your eyes,
I start to learn the lesson
That right isn’t always right,
And wrong isn’t always wrong.

You talk of drinking and drugs like its no big deal.
While my mind protests:
Wrong, Wrong, wrong.
You play your guitar and notes come pouring out,
Like cough syrup from the bottle
They drip through the air.
They cry in pain and scream in fear and speak of strength.
And as the tears begin to fall from my eyes
Black and white begin to bleed together and I begin to see the shades of grey.

You talk of drinking and drugs like its no big deal.
While my mind says:
Wrong, wrong, wrong
But my heart reaches out in understanding.
I take your hand and you look at me,
I tell you my stories and sing you my songs,
And in my eyes
You see a compass,
A lighthouse in a raging storm.
Maybe one day when you talk of drinking and drugs
You’ll say:
No. No. No.

But will I take the risk and follow you on your path?
Because there’s another outcome.
One that’s not sunsets and roses, but fire and thorns.
You’ll sing me your songs and I’ll tell you my stories.
For awhile we’ll survive on pretty tunes and dreams of smoke,
The one day I’ll wake up from the dreams and not hear the tune.
Faced with the ruins and screams of life,
I’ll look back at the past ,
See the bottles I’ve poured down the drain,
And the bags I’ve thrown in the trash,
I’ll say enough is enough and walk out the door a little older and wiser,
But covered in scars.

I’ll have learned the lessons of life:
Black and white make grey,
Roses have thorns,
And sunsets are made of fire.