Can you be my addiction?
My morphine, take my time
Can you take away the pain for me?
Addiction, will you be mine?
You feed the fire more and more
Keep me coming every day
Make me think you left too soon
Then turn around and stay.
Really, I'm pathetic
Needing this here to survive
I wake up wondering my next hit
Counting down till it arrives.
Speed is overrated
And crack is pretty lame
You're the one that's selling out
Your drug is this cities' game.
I've been trying out some dealers
But they never fit the bill
Their high just isn't as good as yours
Doesn't quite get me over the hill.
I'm taking myself to the ranch today
To take some time and gaze some stars
I'll leave you home, babe, not right now,
This retreat is pretty far.
As much as I love the hit I get
And calling you my own
I've got some courage way down deep
Thats scratching to be shown.
My reliance on you will be no more
I'm cutting loose this grip
My addiction, darling, my morphine
Has become one bad acid trip.
So I'll lay here and stargaze now
And these will be real stars
Not the ones created by your hit
My addiction is near and far.

I've learned that happiness
cannot be found in the form of a little
purple capsule.
I've learned that Pisa will have to wait until next time.
I've learned that the third mushroom
held in my sweaty palm was not as
big a deal compared to the other two opening my mind.
I've learned that a part of me
died that night where we ****** in a
room with no furniture.
I've learned that life is work and that
the molotov cocktail of Dubrah and eay mac
that came spewing from me left an orange tang
upon the floor.
I've learned that pain is better than numbness
and that jabbing a sewing needle repeatedly in my arm
was an educated decision.
Most importantly I've learned that together we are better than alone.

He’s a smuggler, bearing certain small
but heavy packages across the borders.
No one knows the powers from whom his orders
come or what authority he’d call
upon, should he be spotted as he drags
himself through brambles or goes burrowing through
the undergrowth. He carries with him few
possessions and his clothes are all in rags—
he doesn’t care: his sole concern is for
the things he carries and the consequence,
should frontier guards discover and inspect them.
He leaves them in left luggage lockers or
on supermarket shelves or under stones,
and no one ever turns up to collect them.

And then it all started to happen
With the sickness and the stroke
And the long
winding
stupid road
That I would take to get you out.
And after it happened those silly roads
Decided they wouldn't guide me anymore
And my long
winding
stupid feelings
Weren't really mine anymore.
And while we were driving out the driveway I'd known
Where you stood out the window and waved
And the long
winding
stupid driveway
I realized I might never see again.
And I have your class ring on my bony hand now
Where I can't tell if it's '57 or 2
And the little
gold
stupid writing
Makes me feeling the guilt of having not asked you.
And I'm afraid to put the annual flowers out now
Where I'll see the dates go through 13
And the long
winding
stupid dates
Are really the saddest I've seen.