Tony Joe White: Did Somebody Make A Fool Out Of You?
You take another shot, but the bourbon has no taste anymore and sure as shit ain't keeping the cold out. The cluttered, empty room's a mess but you'll be damned if you touch a thing. A toast, then: to endings. At least you know where you are with them. Beginnings are more obtuse: you'll never guess which road they're gonna take you down, sometimes not even while you're walking them. Endings are concrete. You can count on them. So why is it so damn cold?
To endings, then. And to hope: the hope that you're through with beginnings. A voice in your head tells you this will pass. One more ending. Because you know where you are with endings: at the beginning. The sun will come out and the cold will be gone. But not tonight. You take another shot, and damn if the bourbon doesn't taste just fine.
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