When I am gone, maybe too young
And when you mourn all you might’ve done
Sipping your whiskey, singing my songs
And cursing my demons, got me after all

Spare me your pity, give me my due
And think more of me than you do of you
‘cause you loved my demons (though you’d never say),
Beloved mistress kept in the shade

‘Cause my so-called angels did me no favors
Caused as much trouble as the devil ever did
Loved the wrong men, played savior
So heavy a conscience for so good a kid

But oh, the forgiveness, I’ve known in the dark
The velvet obsidian of my broken heart …
Would I be different, trade in my blues
For all of that sunshine that’s working for you?

‘Cause my kind of fire drives me to the ledge
Where I look over, flames at my back.
And I do not jump, and I’m not consumed,
But when I’m myself they say I am doomed
Maybe it’s true … maybe it’s true

So, when I am gone, maybe too young
And when you mourn all I might’ve done
Sip on your whiskey. Go ‘head and sing all my songs,
But be kind to my demons
With me all along.
© Heather Aubrey Lloyd 2017