The Pains Of Being Alive

how many addicts do i have to know
for sorrow to pour out of me?
to feel the warmth of their glow
then see thier spirits misery

how many decievers do i have to know
for comfort to run out on me?
they only show what they want to show
pain is behind the mystery

fallen angels under heavens skies
living their own hell
i think of their tunnels of demise
to what darkened depths they will dwell

the broken spirit and beaten will
they never have enough to fill
enslaved by want, fermented need
wounds unhealed which seldom bleed

so many sad stories in this city, i know
where do all the winners go?
with no one or nothing to fall back on
they're here and then they're gone