self-medicating concoctions help get me through the day and night
medicine cabinet of wonders
pretty colors of red, blue, and green
the artist in me can admire that
let’s drink ‘em down and let them hit the palette
I should get some kind of purplish yellow orange
maybe a rich shade of brown thrown in
if they’re expired— so, what could happen?
my miserable fault for not drinking them sooner
couldn’t feel any worse lower depressed bored
the power of the potion
has given me the notion
it must be the curse of the pharaohs
that keep me on this bumpy flight of turbulence
seat belt unfastened at 33000 feet
vertical drops my specialty and falling fast
where's my guardian angel
sitting in a chair thumbing through a magazine
taking an afternoon siesta all day
riding in first class enjoying the good life
too busy eating steak and enjoying complimentary champagne to notice
while I sit knees against my heaving chest in coach
head down! stay down!
terrain terrain pull up! Whirr! Whirr!
maybe it’s just a nightmare—a living nightmare
afraid to stay awake, afraid to go to sleep
afraid of being afraid
my mind is frayed like an old weathered rope
ready to snap at any moment
waiting for those chemicals to kick in
let me rest in peace for a little while anyway
