One gulp, two gulps, three gulps, four.
Your glass is gone; you reach for more.
It's starting to get to you.
This is the thing i can't stand that you do.
Another glass and you're stumbling.
When you talk, all I hear is mumbling.
All I want to do is hit you.
But I wish I could hug you too.
You say something sweet
As you stumble to your seat.
You swear up and down you're not drunk.
Then you rant about you being a worthless punk.
You beat up on yourself.
And complain about your bad health.
Your chest, stomache, head, they all hurt.
You talk about yourself like your dirt.
My heart feels full.
The thought of you being hurt gives my heart strings a pull.
I know with every word you say, you're probably lying.
Knowing this makes it hard to stop from crying.
You talk about your past.
I can tell the pain will always last.
I try my best to comfort you.
I never know that right thing to do.
Eventually you're back to yourself.
But I can't say that for your health.
I wish you could just quit.
I know you don't need this ****.