Alchemisland

Nothing nice about sobriety

Christ, I miss the highness

When it rained, I realized my crown was made of paper

It sagged, warped, then melted away, my pride faded

I was getting faded daily

Hacking up stubborn lugies then mortaring them over the railing

Every day toking cutting down the tree of me

The worms and shades gnawing at the roots of things

The seeds and feet of trees

But now I’m cutting down, now I’m constantly frowning

Looking down at the ground

My breathing wasn’t good, like a man drowned

I went from motion to stasis, like a ship aground

I used to smoke that shit doing the count

I was the proverbial weeping clown

Jack the lad, I’ll never come down

Now I’m down, down bad lad

Down like the bridge in London Town

I use to ship it round in ziplocs, get it ground

Airtight breezeblocks in locked car wheel wells

It was my will and I was well, my bollocks.