This run down shack that holds my closes kin
is musty dingy and reaping with sin..
in this house my family and I sit alone for forgiveness is what we seek,
the things I've seen and done would make my dear mother weep.
the long lonely nights with half hearted smiles,
the flys trying to woo you with all their feminine wiles
take your thoughts and dreams and lead them a stray
to houses and shacks far from your way..
this little drink that sits cold in my hand
has been the ruin of a lot of many a man..
the sweet cool intoxication that seems to make you forget
is the biggest toxin to fill you with regret....
so I'll sit here on this stool with my family all in sin
till that Angel I seek comes down from heaven that I may be born again..
Love is my sin, as well as my need
to lift me off this stool and back upon my feet..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem