happiness used to be something simple
in childhood
shallow and meaningless
but you yearn for something deeper.
simple minds take simple pleasures
the hole in my soul is beyond measure.
there are substances that can plug the hole
but when the plug falls through
they take their side of the deal.
the friends and the parties
more wholesome methods.
better than the war inside
of tar and blood.
who needs a slow death
accelerated with every breath
a gauloise is no friend of ours.
and then i could no longer find
the beautiful music in my mind
so i started to ride
the stuff that plays the music
on the outside.
everything around i tried
to plug the emptiness inside
of course, all my friends cried:
"it's almost committing suicide"
I've always gone one better.
there's a blackness from which you can only hide
under my blanket of carbon monoxide.
fulfilment.
