Love is Real I Guess
Let’s be blunt,
Suddenly all the lights seem too bright for me and
I can feel the sting of how the artificial lights burn
Burning a hole into the crack den of
Trainspotting;
I spy with my little eyes a golden spoon
Feeding children addictions
But, Mother, we’re okay,
We’re all alright,
I swear;
On thy hallowed ground
We smoke to commemorate the dead cells,
Celebrate faded figures -
Oh, God, Ma, we’re so faded
And I’m fading quick;
Someone hear me, SOS,
Mama mia, por favor,
Favored we are not in the eyes of God
The only illumination we have is from the dying joint,
The embers twinkling across our faces
As we face a myriad of troubles climbing pyramids, climbing mountains,
Mountainous depression and anxiety and mania -
And I’m manic,
Doing what I shouldn’t
But it’s what I love,
So yeah love is real, I guess,
In the form of a blunt.