Half a pill for a headache
A shot glass of scotch to help me forget
Just lit a cigarette
Everything’s going up in smoke.
Slowly running out of time
The bottle’s nearing its end
A migraine now begins to run its course
Smile, wave and pretend.
At my dinner table,
dressed in nothing but my flaws
Fiendish voices are clawing and gnawing at my sinking mind
Pills and potions rendition of Jaws.
The chair supports my body
but somehow fails to support my conscience
I’ve got a lot of cents but not much sense
I guess I’m not well proportioned.
And thus for many reasons I’ve labeled myself
Abuser of pills and potions.