Sunday hung-over mornings and golden glares
avoiding the dumb-hound dogs and their disapproving stares,
a bedside table lined with more coke than wood
a night-time of regrets, of differences of whether you would or should -

beware the dumb-hound dawgs
chewing upon fingernails rotten and curled
exhaling noxious fumes and Badrock
making everything see sense in a senseless world

they stole your pitiful cranium and filled it full of idolisation
jackhammering from high to low, like station to ******* station -
yes it was good, full of *** and blissful ignorance
but the harsh light of day brings addictions ruthless persistence

not in the full throes of its torrid grasp
yet you look at the half empty packets and ask
should you carry on clean even though it stings
or should you strangle your strength and clip it's wings?

For drugs don't love you, it's a one way relationship that spits
they'll leave you emaciated, broken, just like your mind that splits and fits -

those pesky dumb-hound dogs you loved oh so much last night

in a few broken years time you'll wish you'd never ever set sight.