It's 3 pm, I was sleeping still
Wondering what the hell is inside of them sleepin pills
First things first, walk to my bar, grab a glass, and get it filled.
Whiskey is the juice of sensations,
I,
Sit cross legged during meditation
Contemplating the fate of a dying nation
In my basement, my body, the temple, distasteful
Falling apart like the homes of the Haitians.
I'm faded.
Trying to get straight answers from my family but they're all wasted
Drinking together us the culmination of our communication.
They say they wish I'd just ****** die.
Fine. I'd rather hear a crooked truth than a linear lie
**** em.