Relapse

The aftertaste of alcohol makes me want more
I promised I wouldn’t do it; I promised I’d stay clean
My cravings and the little angel in my head are at war
I’m not sure which is winning, but my throat is dry and parched
All of the rehabilitation has flown completely out the door
Just one sip; One sip and that’s all that I’ll partake
I promised I wouldn’t do it; I promised, I swore
The small glass taunts me, glistening in the light with a bronze tint
I can’t take it. I’m losing it. My cravings have begun to roar
The bronze liquid is gone and so ends the war.