Each day comes with a sunrise and an alarm clock
Before you think underwear and socks
and straight off into whatever direction you've created
No eyes for the poor no hands for the falling
Just a moment as you feel the day's friction and want a swig
Just a quick toke oh you long for a drag
And the day has grown empty like a series of them over time
some convenient narcotic no one could call it a crime
Lets pretend in some James Bond way
Heavy hitting negotiator talk on talk on the play
Denying the reality of these half hidden addictions
that pop up anytime the day starts to collect friction
What would you be without a racehorse after the finish line
Down on your high dreams of grandeur you feel it's time
A calming sedative some condemn and others praise
You know the part of yourself that secret little crazy
Grin as the lovely smoky nonsense tickles you into avoidance
Why did you beat down that boy inside yourself as if he was your prudence
Never admitting that some corpse of a spirit still longs to wake
But you'll keep it dead just for god's sake
Facing those things would be as scary as confronting any malicious demon
Suddenly upright in your fancy little trance screaming
Waking from your spinning mind that almost catches a drop of joy from each rotation
But all true happiness has picked up and made for some other port's immigration
Bloodshot eyes, aches and irritations that have been well neglected
Still a straight face when you swear there's not a single regret
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