standing on the cliff of my own demise
i consider starting over if i get another pass
without clothes job shoes or cash just a mask
i wear it simply because i know i simply can
its all me in my land and i concur and know
im my own dementor
im cemented to live another year or fifty or so
coarse i return to shore to home
with nothing to show but sands of time dripping through my hands and stones
i would never kill my own bro
id never kill my own blood
id try to exist long enough to see them grow
id try to believe in god plants the planet and crops
but none of these things make sense
sensing i can take a break from hope
i dont try to force it at all
my fingers just reach for cigarettes, weed alcohol pills and smoke
i retoke the blunt its all ash inside of my lungs
my job keeps me judging the ones at the top
juggling these feelings that keep my jugular in a knot
both man and beast can get along
but not if that man is me when i am both

alcohol pills buds