I'd been round the local dives,
Near empty bottle in my hand,
I'd been drunk most of the time,
Around here, it's by demand,
I watched the sunrise pale the sky,
And chase the shadows to their den,
The sky was gray and thick with cloud,
The air was cooled by drizzled rain.
I held my face toward the Gods,
And raised my bottle up in cheers,
I closed my eyes in silent thought,
And wondered if they saw my tears,
The tears that flow so freely now,
The ones I tried to well inside,
The ones I tried to hide from you,
Damn! My foolish pride!
How I wish that I could turn back time,
To hold you in my arms again,
My heart yearns for another chance,
But my pride won't let me ease the pain,
And so I drink to sate myself,
My ego comes before a fall,
But while I try to brave the storm,
I fear the wind may steal my soul.
I save a face to show my friends,
It's false; of course, a rigmarole,
A simple facade of pretense,
To hide a pain that they can't know,
I pour my feelings down the drain,
Piss them away with foolish laughter.
Damn my pride! It stays my heart,
From that happy-ever-after!
My Foolish PrideA deep regret.
By Harry Boslem