They want to send me to AA
Just for drinking a bottle a day
That’s nothing, I say
Compared to the Thompson’s and Hemingway’s
And they don’t have an internal divide
Where society’s poison seeps inside
And everything is left to die
Including one’s own peace and quiet
But while they’re out balancing checkbooks
I’m around balancing scales-
The two ends of a triangle
Trying to reach the ultimate peak of harmony
And it’s this imbalance which turns me to the bottle
Would you rather it be pills or powder on full throttle?
So please let me get my beer gut in peace
One of these days the new leaf will turn over