We beat ourselves up for the decisions we make
Especially the ones, where we end up in heartbreak
But try as we might or as we will
The same choices, we make still
Our poor hearts can't take much more
But to our disbelief, to pain, we open the door
Maybe we'll learn or at least get a clue
Each time we end up drinking ' The Devils Brew '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem