Misery knows a drunk with hangover
It knows a poor soul sick with flu and no one to care for them
It knows the lost dog to house broken to fend for itself
Misery is a friend of mine and a good friend indeed
It picks at me when I need picking
It sucks the air out of my lungs when I think I'm out of breath
Here misery is king and it's queen is solace which, like in all great love stories, misery will always seek.
For all great loves are like high-speed car chases
With the peddle punching through the floor boards.
And misery too is a kind of love
A bad love, but a love nonetheless,
Searching for it's queen.