Depression Baby

An eight-year-old in ’29, one of seven kids, Living in a steel mill town when it hit the skids. They watched the whole thing spiral down, not much else to do. She never got to finish school. My mama was a true Depression baby. She’d talk of things they went without, times they just made do. Told me of the hungry years, how they’d struggle through. She taught me basic recipes for keeping flesh on bone, But now I’m left to figure how to battle with my own depression, baby. I’ve always sought to do my best; should come as no surprise When left with next to nothing, I would learn to improvise. Though bankruptcy, divorce and other cuts have left their mark, I rose above it all to only fall into this dark depression, baby. I’ve done some things to ease the pain: whiskey, smoke and pills, Way too many one night stands, long walks in the hills. I might’ve gained some altitude, might’ve gotten high, I’ve never slain that dragon, though I’ve tried it all for my depression, baby.