Your picture smiles at me now
Used to be it would hurt down
Way deep
Where all the hopes
Dreams
And childhood wishes sleep
It’s been almost six years
I can’t begin to describe the tears
Awash in a guilty ocean of fears
Consumed daily consumption from within
Drowning everything with booze again
Where the hell is my bottle
I need another crazy woman with a script
That’s bout the only way
I see me getting through this
Psychotropic mental vacation
I’m not certain how long I’ll be staying
This time
See sometimes
In times like these times
I find
Myself
Wrapped up
In this depressive state
That easily turns to hate
That makes that depressive obsessive
Impression that I keep impressing
On everyone
Seem so very sensible
In its own sensational sensation
Sometimes when
My hands shake
When all the hidden
Scars come awake
When it seems I’m down
To my last claim and stake
When everything I have at stake
Is burning at the stake
Make no mistake
I ask myself
What would you do
In times like these
When the chemical solution
Becomes the only safe harbor of absolution
Of desolation
Of immolation
Of the mind
Lost in the dust and the ashes
Of my own wreckage
That seem so overwhelming
When I have walked through
All the fiery parables of Hell
And become
Self-induced self-seduced
To believe the living lie
Of my own immortality
The weight
Just may be heavy enough
Undeniable draw of the gravity
Of the situation
Weighing me down
Keeping my feet
Mired in the bodies of yesterday
That litter the walkways of memory lane
Every single
Broken moment
Falling upon bruised shoulders
Tattoos
Cover the marks of the abuse
Most of which
Has always been
Self-induced self-seduced
To again believe
My own lie
My ever living mythology
Of my ever living mortality
I think I might break and hit my knees
Again
And beg for Him
To come within me again
Bring me that
Security and peace
That comes from within
And it all breaks down
To be so goddamned
Sad and silly
When I see
Your picture smiling down at me
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Working Class Production 