Never been so thankful to cry
to the wolf in angel’s clothing,
be my Uriel, show me the light
is on, my amygdala just isn’t home;
I’ll lie in bed groaning, writhing,
mind stuck in catatonic stare,
what’s left of my brain stretching, lying
that it’s just not at all fair.
I’m explaining to the therapist
my demise isn’t that deep to me,
I’m explaining to you, my friend,
sometimes a bitch needs to drink.
Whether you believe me or not,
the leaves will still rot,
You’re thinking you don’t know me at all,
want me in the cold sobbing, jumping
off my self constructed crucification
running down to the rite aid,
my prescription my only repetition,
a symbol that it’s too late,
my amygdala in competition
with myself to dysregulate.
to the wolf in angel’s clothing,
mind stuck in catatonic stare,
what’s left of my brain stretching, lying
that it’s just not at all fair.
I’m explaining to the therapist
my demise isn’t that deep to me,
I’m explaining to you, my friend,
sometimes a bitch needs to drink.
Whether you believe me or not,
the leaves will still rot,
You’re thinking you don’t know me at all,
want me in the cold sobbing, jumping
off my self constructed crucification
running down to the rite aid,
my prescription my only repetition,
a symbol that it’s too late,
my amygdala in competition
with myself to dysregulate.