DRUNKARD'S LANTERN

LEVA-JONES

HIS DAY IS THROUGH HIS WORK IS ALL DONE
HE HEADS FOR THE TAVERN FOR TO HAVE HIS FUN
HIS BUDDIES ARE WAITING THE DRINKS ARE ALL POURED
LIT BY THE DRUNKARD'S LANTERN THEIR GLOWING REWARD

LIKE A MOTH TO A FLAME LURED BY PROMISE OF PLEASURE
FLEEING MEMORIES OF SHAME
TO A LIGHT THAT DECEIVES BY THE OLD DRUNKARD'S LANTERN HE STILL BELIEVES

THE TIME HAS PASSED AND THE FUN HAS GROWN SOUR
JUST LIKE LAST NIGHT AT THE VERY SAME HOUR
THE LIGHT THROUGH HIS GLASS MAKES THE WHISKEY GLOW
BUT THE OLD DRUNKARD'S LANTERN IS BURNING LOW

HE STUMBLES HOME AND THE WAY IS STEEP
IN A VISION BEFORE HIM IS HIS BABY ASLEEP
AND HIS WIFE JUST A-ROCKING THERE BY THEIR BEDSIDE
LIT BY THE DRUNKARD'S LANTERN THERE'S NOWHERE TO HIDE

HE FALLS ON THE HEARTH WHERE THERE'S ASH AND NO FLAME
HE SHIVERS WITH COLD AND HE TREMBLES WITH SHAME
AND THE PROMISE HE'S MADE HERE NIGHT AFTER NIGHT
KNOWING HE CAN'T BUT WISHING HE MIGHT

LIKE A MOTH TO A FLAME LURED BY PROMISE OF PLEASURE
FLEEING MEMORIES OF SHAME
BUT HE CANNOT CONCEIVE OF ANY LIGHT BUT THE LANTERN IN WHICH HE CAN BELIEVE

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