He sat there not caring for the difference
Two months of uncertainty and pain
were enough to thicken his skin again
All he knew was he didn't give a fuck
But for a few short hours the bottle had always given him luck
So he indulged
but nothing was resolved
the same tired story on a new day
well that is what they say
when there is no distinction
how is that proof
of something new
TV wasn't a cure... drugs
were temporary fun
But at the same time to be an alcoholic
is the lesser of all evils when all is said and done
Some where there was a lie
Some time someone pissed in his eyes leaving him blind
But to no confession he awoke
walking funny to the joke
Gravity to the train of thought
wrecking the higher message sought
well maybe, if it all wasn't a lie
of which there is no guarantee
of which there is nothing to comply
but in the morn, when the head was wrecked
there wasn't much solace to offer
so he took another hit