Devastated, I crawled inside a bottle
After all, alcoholism isn’t my battle.
I could care less about death or honor
So long as I am never rattled.
A fortuneteller gave up on me
When the secrets of the Tarot were false.
It seems my life was nothing but scandal.
Your words are the fingernails, my heart the chalk.
But why cry over the bones of the dead
When nothing lasts beneath the sun of rust.
Our beliefs are our nemesis…don’t you see it?
First man to step forward is always first to dust.
So, I crawl deeper into this bottle of mine
Looking desperately for that one good taste.
My tongue becoming dry like the bitter porcupine
Making sure that not one drop will meet a fate of waste.
My brain is pounding like basketball hardwood
The floor is reverberating like a kettledrum.
I wonder if this is the end that triceratops met…
He drank himself to death before the end did come.
