The words you speak you don't mean to slur, you think you know what you're saying but it's all a blur. Missing the way things used to be, but crying at the cost of living; it's no longer free. Wanting more 'n more but you have to quit. Sadly it's your only coping skill to make you forget. You drink and you drink but now you're just sick, after four years you'd think that'd it'd click. Never does till you're sitting there dying, even after though, the feeling is always satisfying