Pain under index and thumb
For my hearts becoming numb
In my words and rhymes I hum
For my hearts becoming numb
Although I see all the support
A memory close to abort
Then I think of a much higher court
Scar on my spirit hard to abort
Although I say this at this second
Nobody knows how energies beckoned
If I have my choice in my final hour
Would not be vodka but a whiskey sour
Gabby's is a place down the street
A place to sing, a place to meet
New people and one you know
Thinking back not Gabby's show
I could always ways go for a walk
Hang out as we talk
Touch on the subject of life and death
Or talk about songs like Kisses Beth
There was a time I loved to cook
Don't know how many chops it took
To cut that onion till it drew tears
Pained eyes then the pan sears
Did not know I could turn that so subtle
Guess my brains in some sort or huddle
Creating ways to speak in my own code
Yet have created my own abode