I pull up and there you are
stumbling all around,
smiling and laughing
while falling on the ground.

I swallow hard and blink.
I don't want to cry.
But I do wipe a tear
from my stubborn eye.

I can see through you,
I know why you do this.
But cigarettes and bottles
won't offer any bliss.

Stop smiling and laughing.
You're lying through your teeth.
You might appear content,
but you're dying underneath.

You slur your words and mumble
as I seat you in the car.
It seems like every week now,
I collect you from the bar.

Yelling while we're driving,
you open up your door.
You say you're not done buying rounds,
you say you want some more.

When we reach a stoplight,
you struggle to break free.
I tell that you'd stay here
if you really loved me.

Still your door is open,
and the lights will soon be green.
Your one leg in the road,
now my panic can be seen.

I hold your wrist so tightly
and I reach for your door,
but it's too far away
and my arms have gotten sore.

I'm crying and you're yelling
but I finally pull you in.
I lock the door and beg you
not to try this again.

The remainder of the drive
is filled with such nonsense.
The sky feels like it's falling
and the air feels thick and dense.

I can't help but pity you,
you're as drunk as one can be.
You look just like a child.
You really worry me.

What's wrong with this picture?
Who's looking after who?
I thought you were my mother,
so why am I parenting you?