A Sting In The Tale
A blue eyed boy - A thousand days.
White lines, mirrors, and razor blades.
Lost and alone in his own zone, cold,
He dealt with the devil and sold his soul.
And all for the love of the booze and coke,
And the thoughts and feelings inside they'd evoke.
But he never quite knew when enough was enough,
And got hooked on the Devil's dandruff.
So after he'd sniffed his very last line,
And drunk all the beer and brandy,
His mood soon changed, he no longer felt fine,
But desperate like Dan: far from dandy.
So he'd lay and he'd pray for one last line,
And think of the drink, and the numerous times
That his clock had tick-tocked until five in the morning,
And he felt like Dr.Death was calling.
So the cravings and comedown were suddenly stopped,
With the fistfull of valium pills he popped.
Then twenty hours later, from sleep self-prescribed,
He'd awake, then stand and stumble,
And some might say he could be described
As a bee without a bumble.