I loved with a passion in my soul,
The kind of love you find
Coming from an alcoholic with a fine bottle of brandy.

It was toxic.

They say I was out of control,
I say blame it on love.

After all this time
I’m still holding onto rundown excuses.

Trying to chase away the blues,
With a baseball bat,
Engraved with the words.

Go Away

I’ve found myself wandering down every empty street
Hoping one of them would lead me back to myself.

Then before realizing you can’t find yourself
Within a pothole stricken road
Without catching a cold.

I caught a cold.

And the cold I caught was wretched.

Only cured by a carton of Ben and Jerrys
And a long night

That night was the longest.

It was one of the nights were it felt
Like a hand with arthritis was clutching your heart.

I found myself downing any bottle of anything,
And finding nothing.

Then I found myself questioning
The nothing I was finding.

I found myself second guessing,
Every breath I took.

Like my lungs were the problem.

But honestly,
I’m gonna blame love,
And I’m gonna be blaming it hard.

And I’ll use every rundown excuse in the book,
If it helps me find something.

Something to hold onto
Just so I get through the night.

I will use every rundown excuse in the book,
To find substance in the nothing I’ve been finding.

Because within this nothing,
There must be something.

Because nothing is something,
And something is not nothing.

So here's to me and my rundown excuses
The excuses I use when I need something.

But can’t find anything.