Incomprehensibly inebriated, I stood up
Whether I walked, stumbled, fumbled or
Even crawled; I need not know or care
I struck you my friend, my best one too
Never did I deserve such company anyway
Pity, six of the best and hardest years spent
Mostly with you by my side and I by yours
Knowing what's best for someone is hard
A two way curse I say, whilst it may be best
It mightn't be what is wanted or needed
For arguments sake, we'd squabble
In the name of fun and youth we'd dabble
To be cast aside and know you deserve it
Friend, it hurts but the damage is done

Incomprehensibly inebriated, I threw
Six of the best, hardest years away
They say boys don't cry but we did,
When they said we couldn't attend our
High school prom because we didn't
Behave or act in a way that proved we
Wanted and deserved to go, although it
Wasn't for lack of trying, I remember
Those phone calls, Those late nights
I remember the successful appeal we made
How we both attended the prom, delightful
How your date was drop dead gorgeous
How mine kind of, wasn't?
You laughed Because she wanted to sleep with me and
You could tell I wasn't keen, funny times

Now we're 20 and we don't really speak
I know it's only been three to four weeks
Since I irreversibly ****** up, it's just
It feels like a long time now, I think a lot
About how I'm not friend material because
I hurt people, emotionally and physically
I'm a lousy drunk and cynical too
I've been this way a long time, nothing new
I have problems buried down deep
Even demons too, but I fought them
With others, I fought them with you

feeling sorry for myself again,
surprise surprise, I think a lot
they say don't it's bad for you,
surprise surprise, I wonder still
feeling sorry for myself again,
like some crack-addled *****
frustration at every turn, as I see
the corridors of my mind; a dead end
every time, and maybe the migraines
are a true sign of recent times
pain for days, a complete sense of contempt
seeing myself so low, I must mount my eyes
high up in the trees, stitched into leaves
to look down on everything so

feeling sorry for myself again,
surprise surprise, I think a lot
they said don't it's bad for me,
surprise surprise, I wonder still
feeling sorry for myself again,
like some lonesome lowlife
I understand the kettle's whistle,
tormented and brought to boiling point,
tortured by the very talents that give it purpose
am I a kettle or a joke to you?
pain for days, a complete sense of contempt
seeing myself so low, I must mount my eyes
high up in the trees, stitched into leaves
to look down on everything so

I never could have known
Although I am so grateful
That the most painful
Significant and
Distasteful moments
In my life
Would become

Me

I'm sicker than sick
A selfish hedonist
Admired yet frowned upon
Like a spit covered ****
Maintaining my innocence
Through denial, my head picks
Up on things, but only what it wants
I see the world for what it is
The blind leading any and all
Sick enough to follow

Then my brain regurgitates it
in to something a little easier to swallow