Memoirs of my boulevard

I am holding my pay cheque, house contract qoute and the phone rings... I am sobbing and my heart about to burst! The only thing making sense is that bottle in my hand Each sip i take is taking me a mile away from my troubles But why do i feel this nag in my heart I am singing silently, "I bow my knee..." The thoughts are getting louder, but the song still plays in all calmness The bottle seems to be glued in my hand With all the snorts and the tears, i cant even tell which is vodka now I want to throw it away and listen to the song playing softly in my heart My lips begin to move and start singing, "I bow my knee..." All of a sudden the calmness overtakes the fear and uncertainty... Then i remembered my granny's last words... Be still and know that He is God.

He who willfully separates himself from God and man seeks his own desire...  But how can i resist the sweating bottle of a cold drink...  How can I resist the soft whisper of a man who smells like the morning dew  The desire is strong, my heart wants to break the chains  Should i then regret what the Lord has blessed me with.   The good i have has become poison in me...  Should I then take off my eyes as they are poisoning my mind?  The roots run deeper than the eyes,   Should i then burn my brains for that were the ideas come from?