I'm sorry
It's all my fault
I didn't mean to hurt anyone
But what's done is done
Not everyday
That you lose TWO people you love

Trust is fragile
It's like a rare glass vase
One tap too hard and it shatters
And it might never be fixed
Or it may take forever to replace
Trust is like a bucket of water
Balancing on the tip of a needle
One little blow
And it can be gone
Just like that

Trust is like a rare treasure
One only few people ever find
But I fear I've lost mine

But I swear I'll search
To the ends of the Earth
Till all that treasure is regained
Because, my dear friend
I'll do anything for you
You mean everything
You are my everything

Forcing a smile, when you want to cry.
Seeking a friend, when you want to die.
I'll soak up the blood, you wipe the tears;
Walking past graves, smoke soon clears.
Don't wanna live, no money to die,
Life's a *****, and they're asking why;
Others can change your mood,
Once timid and subdued;
Your only now found in the limelight.
But It doesn't feel right;
To cry in-front of happiness.
Your the only one in the room,
Who is full of sadness.
Yet your told to force a smile.

“What do you think
The bravest drink
Under the sky?”
“Strong beer,” said I.

“There’s a place for everything,
Everything, anything,
There’s a place for everything
Where it ought to be:
For a chicken, the hen’s wing;
For poison, the bee’s sting;
For almond-blossom, Spring;
A beerhouse for me.”

“There’s a prize for every one
Every one, any one,
There’s a prize for every one,
Whoever he may be:
Crags for the mountaineer,
Flags for the Fusilier,
For English poets, beer!
Strong beer for me!”

“Tell us, now, how and when
We may find the bravest men?”
“A sure test, an easy test:
Those that drink beer are the best,
Brown beer strongly brewed,
English drink and English food.”

Oh, never choose as Gideon chose
By the cold well, but rather those
Who look on beer when it is brown,
Smack their lips and gulp it down.
Leave the lads who tamely drink
With Gideon by the water brink,
But search the benches of the Plough,
The Tun, the Sun, the Spotted Cow,
For jolly rascal lads who pray,
Pewter in hand, at close of day,
“Teach me to live that I may fear
The grave as little as my beer.”

There once was a fellow named Dave
Who kept a dead ***** in his cave,
She stunk quite a bit and was missing one ***,
But just think of the money he saved.