The grape and grain have much to pay,
for all the harm they’ve done.
For people who drink to any excess,
we disregard and shun.
Down alleys and in doorways,
with their bottles in brown bags,
These people that were once so young,
are now old men and hags.
So sad their lives of misery,
no peace of mind for these.
Just begging for a crust of bread,
for sustenance if you please.
They’re treated then as lepers,
by their families and their friends.
But without the support of someone’s help,
for themselves they cannot fend.
Their memories play tricks on them,
they don’t know where they are.
In a drunken stupor it’s ‘let’s have another drink’,
and find the nearest bar.
In hospitals and in clinics,
these poor sad souls seek help.
Safe and sound locked in their padded cells,
they scream and shout and yelp.
Their faith is lost, their pride has gone,
they’re empty deep inside.
They spend their time just trying to find,
somewhere nice and safe to hide.
When at last their minds have finally gone,
to violence they will turn.
So In front of the judge they will appear,
and wait for the jury to adjourn.
When at the end their lives are lost,
and they are released from earthly grief.
They’re told why their lives where stole from them,
by Alcohol, the thief !.