Seems I’m always in deep water, see me drownin’ out my troubles.
Watched the weeks turn into years an’ never moved a beery muscle.
I got a wallet/pocket full o’ paper, plan to drink it down to metal.
When I’ve tanked enough Dutch courage, watch me grasp that stingin’ nettle.
I heard people sayin’, I only talk the talk.
bu’ I ain’t finished yet, not by a long, long chalk.
walk the walk.
The joint/room is full of people, but I’ve no one I can talk to.
Own a potpourri of feelin’s, from affinity to screw you.
Tired of runnin’ ’round in circles, walkin’ on a mental tightrope.
Ma’-future don’t look too rosy, between despair, faith and blind hope.
The time for talkin’ is over,
gotta find me lifelong closure.
Between a rock an’ a hard place,
forced to play my low-down high ace.
©30.8.2019 Andrew Robert Chapman
, flexin’ their love muscle.