Drug of Choice
Herein lies the problem, and I need a fix
A reach into my deep, dark, abysmal bag of tricks...
Blinded with rage when nothing is there,
To cure my dis-ease. Intense wrought despair
Compels me to act, to seek and to find
My only distraction, my time out of mind.
A wise man once said 'To thine own self be true'
Since wise man was drunk, I'll follow his cue:
Twas not to thine own self but to thy drug of choice
That truth be thine aim, spoke forth through thy voice.
I suffer withdrawal, I'm bored and I'm scared.
My outlook is grim, I feel unprepared
To face such a brave new world without fear
If I'm without soma, so much so I jeer
At those who fly sober, who lack my good sense
To grasp their addictions, understand why they're tense.
Whose outlooks are hardened, who look at me and scoff
When we all need something to take the edge off.
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