Ashes and wine

We've been ashes and wine all our lives,
Baby, we had no chance, you and I,
This was an off track road, another sign
Followed and gone wrong, we had no chance,
It's all just ashes and wine;

I'm waking up to your face wondering what's next,
Is there any chance I can ever forget?
You are waiting and waiting when I just want to leave,
Baby, this had no chance, there's no life here,
Not for you and me;

It's just another day, I need to drag myself out of bed,
You're still there, somewhere, in the back of my head,
I open another bottle, drown sorrows I do not know,
5 bottles later, I find you've come home,
A bottle opener later, you find me bleeding, alone.

Stubs strewn across the floor, the ashes all over me
I'm still craving more, another bottle won't hurt me,
Why don't you just stay away, there is no chance,
Baby, at the end of the day,
We're all just ashes and wine.

Workaholic

You do not see the tears
That trickle down every night,
After you leave the bed cold;
The only warmth being her work,
She turns to it more.

Then it starts to kill,
A kind of addiction,
A sort of escape,
Where mechanical routine
Is soul numbing - she doesn't feel -

At least, not anymore.

Layers after layers of paper
Smother her in her dreams;
The darkness which comes with it,
The high she gets off it,
All seems worth to hide the pain.

Piles after piles of books,
Miles and miles of faces,
Confused smiles and angry glares,
To work is to be free of the mob,
To be free of the anxiety and pain -

Yet it kills her, each second, a little more.

You do not see her broken spirit
Reflected in her now lifeless eyes,
The bed you left cold long ago,
But now you're back
Just to say goodbye.

The cold machine she has turned into,
The iron fist which she exerts in her field,
The drinks and weed she avoids,
Only to drown herself in more sheets,
Realise that you're the reason she's there -

A workaholic in her cold and lonely despair.