Mama always told me

I was a Sinner not a Saint

Addicted to Mrs. Alcohol

A substance so corrosive it peels paint

Destroys lives, cars, families and all

Then takes you to the bank

Was the reason why

I was a Sinner not a Saint

 

But Mama never told me

She was a Sinner not a Saint

She wouldn’t leave alcohol alone

Even though she showed me

What I should’a always known

She was a Sinner not a Saint

Now we talk through prayer instead of the phone

Mama’s passing really makes me stop and think

 

Mama I’m so tired

Of being a Sinner not a Saint

Destroying important relationships

Things on reflection makes me wanna faint

Proud of my past

Is something that I ain’t

Which is why I’m so tired

Of being a Sinner not a Saint

 

Mama please

Help me be a Saint not a Sinner

Stop to smell the roses and the breeze

Let go of the mental paint thinner

I gotta overcome this disease

If I want to be a Saint not a Sinner

Gotta make the better choices I see

It’s the only way I’m every gonna be a winner

 

Author’s Note:

Many of the clients I deal with as a substance abuse treatment counselor have been raised in environments with parents who were also addicts. Written when I was substance abuse counselor in 2006-2007.