I had to go and see my Doctor
For I was feeling rather dõwn
He took one look and said to me
You need to go out on The town.

He asked are you a heavy drinker
And do you drink alot of wine
I said whisky is my tipple
My preference every time.

He asked if I drink it often
I replied every single night
He laughed and said don't worry
That's perfectly alright.

He asked me what's my favourite blend
I said the Scottish highland malt
That's what they recommended
So the drinkings not my fault.

He asked do you eat much greasy food
Now that's something I can't deny
He suggested cooking frozen chips
They take less time to fry.

I asked Doctor what's your verdict
Is there anything you can do
He replied go out and have some fun
We are humans and our years are few.

So i am glad that I saw my Doctor
Now I am happy and I'm pleased
So go and see your Doctor
He will put your mind at ease.

Though I'm not in jail it all just feels the same
Waking up depressed told just not to complain
A shotgun to my head i feel like Curt Cobain
Not a literal sense, but the context sustains
I don't want money, success, not even some fame
I just want to learn to play this game
Each day it gets hard i just keep  breathing
Wondering how the **** this happened, it feels like treason
From a comical skeptic to a reliable source
I question the water that was gave to the horse
Viewed as a sinner but always in doubt
"Read from the scripture and figure it out"
Nightmares keeping me awake like a proxy
SO many bad thoughts I wish I could get off me
Do your 12 steps Bob, everything is kosher
Yet I wake every night screaming still sober
A stranger does the same, and everyone wants to know her
A technicality set, a glimpse for closure
Different from most but related to some
I feel alone but second to none
Shaking again always be the **** up
"drinkings a sin" Always press my luck up
Some things I will never understand
But if it doesn't change I will be ******

I'm not addicted,
liquor's just the fittest liquid
to sift through the litany
of **** my mind whips
into existence.
Aids in grippin
the intricate specifics
among twisted images
that slip from
simply cryptic to mystic.
It's not *******,
just simple statistics,
the rhyming gets better
when drinkings prolific.

my father was a drunk
mother was a *****
dad spent his paycheck on *****
so we were always poor
drinkings what he chooses
going to school with bruises
no friends to talk to
zipper always askew
although they stared
no one cared
until the boy with the charming eyes
the one who told such pretty lies
but i didnt mind
he was ever so kind
finding ways to make me smile
but of course he left after a while
but who could blame him?
i am just a broken kid full of sin
he was an angel
and all i do is make things painful

Drinkings like a death sometimes
An easy end to any night
Upon waking up
Sometimes you feel new
When the fleeting pain inside your skull
Has finally left and your mind is clear
Things seem different
Old seems new

I dont drink often
But when i do
The next day usually
Seems a little less blue