the voices are always louder at 3am
did you notice, how they are complete perfectionists
at finding the most horrific words
to swing back and forth in your mind
as the minutes drag by
insides awaiting the beautiful
morning light

and when you drink.. the deeper the ethanol
makes you think
in turning to vodka I always end up
fetal position crying for God
enough is enough
one spirit makes me turn to another
notice that
its only desperation that makes one
sacrifice their early morning quiet
stomach
for nausea and sick
thats the price you pay to think
and you know it's worse but you can never
find the words
like you can when your high
in spirit, pot or wine


im so many people yet nobody
i couldn't explain myself in a few words
or a book
theres no depth to me just a hollow soul
behind eyes that are too scared to look
because i cant understand
everything i see
and I'm a washed inside with beautiful
melodies
and they tilt their heads sideways
when i walk past them ... you know
like they've never seen flowers
blossom and grow?