Someone put a sock in it
a
right old writers block on it
and I am fukin sick of it
I think I'm going to paint.

This ain't no picnic party
but I bet you'd like to
start me
on a drop of mothers ruin

I'll be ****** if I took one drink
so I'll drink a flaming hat full
it's so easy being spiteful
when you're three sheets
to the wind.

And then
what happens to me
are the links of chains run through me
and I forge a new opinion

if only
and another

and
if only is the other side of sixpence that we toss.

Then I tried to paint the candlelight,
believe me
it's much easier to
sit and write.