The Hang Over
Posted: Sat Jan 24, 2015 10:45 pm
The Hang Over
I was witless and wasted
My mouth kind of tasted
Like charcoal and fur balls and gravel and stuff
My eyes were still bleeding
Sandpaper reading
I was pleading to die, I wasn’t quite dead enough
I must have got hammered
From what I remembered
Whiskey and scotch became vodka and rum
I lay in a cold sweat
A corpse in a casket
A sad basket case if there ever was one
The mere thought of moving
Was painfully proving
To be more than my body and mind could endure
But then came the hour
I’d set the alarm for
The shriek of the bells made me fall to the floor
I dragged my poor carcass
Across broken glasses
Across empty bottles and cigarette butts
I hauled myself upright
And turned on the faucet
And tried to drown slowly by drinking the drops
So I’m in the shower
Been here for an hour
Letting cold water wash over my head
If this is survival
Thank God I’m alive
But I guess this must be what its like to be dead
Copyright (c) Allan Cropper October 2008
I was witless and wasted
My mouth kind of tasted
Like charcoal and fur balls and gravel and stuff
My eyes were still bleeding
Sandpaper reading
I was pleading to die, I wasn’t quite dead enough
I must have got hammered
From what I remembered
Whiskey and scotch became vodka and rum
I lay in a cold sweat
A corpse in a casket
A sad basket case if there ever was one
The mere thought of moving
Was painfully proving
To be more than my body and mind could endure
But then came the hour
I’d set the alarm for
The shriek of the bells made me fall to the floor
I dragged my poor carcass
Across broken glasses
Across empty bottles and cigarette butts
I hauled myself upright
And turned on the faucet
And tried to drown slowly by drinking the drops
So I’m in the shower
Been here for an hour
Letting cold water wash over my head
If this is survival
Thank God I’m alive
But I guess this must be what its like to be dead
Copyright (c) Allan Cropper October 2008