The Fix
I smoke Rock
I drink Scotch
I like hookers that don't talk a lot
And I smile from the pain
When the needle plunges through my vein
I don't need Jesus to forgive me
My salvation would cost more than I can pray
Absolution can't be purchased
No matter how many Hail Marys you say
A vanquished bottle falls victim
Another Soldier that I drank to death
Tiny plastic bags lay full of empty
While the drug swims in the blood
under my flesh
It would take more than an army
of Christian Soldiers
On a crusade to save my soul
A futile quest for a vacant spirit
That's been ravaged, robbed, bought and sold
In twisted darkness
or straightened light
Seeking the venom
Piercing fangs
The healing cure in a snake's bite
There's no trust
in a junkies smile
No grief in his tear
Rusted words from an acid tongue
Spit out and insincere
Fate left no clue
Just a bruise
My Apocalyptic Tattoo
Was I the one
that made this choice
Or was it the addiction
Imitating my voice
So the wheel turns
on a flattened tire
And I'm not carrying a spare
Time creeps to the rhythm of the thumping
The fix is a hungry rifle
And it has me sighted
in it's cross hairs
Copyright © Judge Santiago Burdon | Year Posted 2018
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