Worn Down- by: unknown forgotten

It's cold and wet outside
Everything is sticky with dew and frightful to the touch
Low fog flows eerily in from the coast
So looming you can taste it's salt,
Not to mention the dead sailors it's captured over the years
The poor bastards

I'm drinking whiskey from a glass so chipped it could cut you on any sip
But that's of no matter
There's too much blood in my mouth already to encompass the bourbon from it's excellence

Cars drive by ever so slowly to avoid the police
They've been scanning the area lately,
"Smacking" down on crime,
Whatever that means.

Then ever once in a while there'll be a fellow that skims a curb
Or grazes the mirror of a parked car they pass
Fucking drunkards, you can see it coming a mile away
The headlights they emit cast an immediate notion of distrust.
Maybe it's just my mind playing tricks on me,
Maybe it's just the whiskey talking,
Probably, I don't know.
I couldn't tell you the difference it I tried, even if I was sober.
Maybe I'm just paranoid.
But it's been like this for awhile now.
Ever since my Lady Doll was taken from me...
My Dear... why did you leave me...?