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SATAN’S COMFORTERS

whiskey_bottles

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By Ken  Blue

 

It was lost somewhere, a long time ago

How, and where I lost it I do not know

I retraced old paths in my mind

But emptiness is all I find.

 

A friend called Comfort keeps me warm inside

And helps me forget pain I cannot hide.

I come home; she’s waiting for me

Pressed to my lips, easing misery

 

My bed’s empty, wife, and children are gone

Comfort and I share the house all alone

She says forget; I should party and play

Soon I will forget what I lost that day

 

Country Gentleman made a fool of me

Christian Brothers; not Christian, or family

Black Velvet and Four Roses the casket doth line

Jose Cuervo was never a friend of mine

 

Comfort’s no longer comfort for me

She owns my soul, and my destiny

You’ll find many like her in liquor stores

Awaiting the fools who walk through her doors

 

Though beautifully packaged to catch your eyes

Behind each label is death in disguise

I now know what it was I lost back there

It was my childhood faith, Bible, and prayer

 

I still see Comfort everywhere I go

She beckons me come, but I must say no

By God’s grace, I must find my way back there

To my childhood faith, my Bible, and prayer.

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