She Is the Whiskey In My Cup
She is the whiskey in my cup.
Like a brand new pup,
Born into this horrible world,
Innocent and clean.
She is everything bold and brave.
She is the whiskey in my cup.
She is the cigarette I light,
She is the cigarette smoke I breath in,
She is the smells of the city buses,
She is the love and the hate that passes throughout each other,
Through the busy highways and lonesome avenues.
She is the whiskey in my cup,
but I do not drink.
I watch her, there float on the brim of my cup.
I do not drink!
Why would I drink my love away,
and never see my love again?
She is everything beautiful and great,
She is the birds that fly in the bluest skies and sing their love songs,
In the tallest of leafy, green trees.
She is the canals that flow through Venice.
Dark and a mystery around every corner,
but that is what makes her beautiful.
She is like the calm and cool air,
That whispers gently in my ear,
crying out, "Follow your heart, and love again."
She is the Whiskey in my Cup,
but I do not drink.
Why?
I love her and would not waste her.
If you loved something, would you waste it away?
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