| | Half a drink or half a pill,
Not even half, more like a lick
3 minutes of mood altering nothing
2 million hours searching...something to which
There is never a solution
Just 3:2 dilution
If I could get high, I'd try
And fly to the top of my mountain
Still, I wouldnt cry but jump
to the nearest hold and pass out gracefully
Falling like a big fat dead bird
From a faulty pirch
Made from sticks and leaves and spit and sap
I'd fall right into someone's lap
And let him hold me tenderly
Until my hope restored itself
And then I'd fly so far away
Just to do it all again. |
| | Posted 9/10/2003 5:24 AM - 5 comments
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