Sorry Angel But I Needed To Vomit This Out
DO DON’T, WILL, WON’T
We were wandering, we were lost
Four who knew not the route out of a maze
Other’s blood upon our hearts was there embossed
Never to forget a dead man’s glaring gaze
Once, twice and then one becomes numb and void
While death becomes birth’s ally and partner in crime
Some may swear and some become annoyed
But we all got high as if all we had was time
Each time a dealer hands you a bag you never know
While my desperation and neediness ever grew
Each time a dealer hands you a bag you feel your habit grow
And to ignore that fact is what some junkies opt to do
I, on the other hand swore that I would not die’
For careful was I about who and where I’d go
If I didn’t know the dealer I wasn’t getting high
Because rat poison is cheaper than lactose, that much I know
Some dealers feel a junkie’s angst and desperate needs
As that junkie grows more fearsome in a sordid sort of way
Both dealers and junkies are forced to do some desperate deeds
Yet out of four poor wanderers I’m the only one still alive
© 2011.….Poefree
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