Well I’ve went and got stoned again
I went to my mates house
Who is not really a mate
I only go there to get stoned
Over the course of my addiction
I have grown to loathe him
And myself too
I am drawn to the underbelly
Of life’s sad delusion’s
Can I find meaning here?
Are there any solutions?
The joke has ceased to be funny
The buzz has worn off
I am struggling to breathe
In the depth of my fog
Every day is the day
That I turn a new corner
But tonight was the night
That I discovered
That maybe I’m more than who I think I am
Maybe I’m an automatic writer
Who lets it flow out of the atmosphere
Without the care or the will to guide it
So that it can fly
Beyond words
Beyond ourselves
For we miss the joke
Of our own creation
Or maybe I just talk pish
I’ll leave that last sentiment
To your own good judgement
Cheers!
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