I push and deny the feeling of disgust that is building inside,
Because I cannot claim that I have done anything to subside my pain.
I wallow and drink and never give myself a moment to think,
Or heal or do anything to appeal,
To the good nature I know I possess,
Or to lighten the feeling of crushing that is settling in on my chest.
A bottle of wine helps calm my nerves,
And a glass of whiskey gives me the swerves,
A scotch neat can help bury the pain,
And that can be followed easily with a line of cocaine,
A shot of tequilla makes me dance freely,
And a pill of Molly makes me change who I see to be me,
A blunt in my hand makes be feel secure,
And an addict by my side never leaves me unsure,
About the fact that I am one of them and they are part of me,
And this is something from which we will never be free.