To Be Mortal

Cry away your sorrows,
Drink away your life.
You always have tomorrow
Or the point of a sharp knife.

Scream away your broken heart,
Beat away your fears,
The sun can bring a fresh new start,
Or daggers formed as tears.

Forget about your work,
Your children are old enough now.
Hang out in the place where death lurks,
Give him a flourished bow.

Nevermind your faithful wife,
She'll do fine without you.
She can help provide the butcher knife,
She doesn't want you to suffer, too.

So there it is, that's how it goes,
You lose your world and soul.
Sit there as your dirty blood flows
And fall into your blissful hole.