We staggered out of bars and raves
Stumbling through alleys
Hands outstretched for the wall
Like churchgoers during a hymn
Trying to catch our respective gods
The weight of the world heavy on our hearts
Some of us throwing punches
Some of us keeping up the appearance of pleasant conversation
Most of us just sobbing our eyes out at the futility of it all
We eagerly consumed any inimical pill, plant, or powder
That could promise us a chance to forget
For even just one moment
The Atlas weight on our backs
We were eyed by weary vagabonds
The tenants of piss-soaked cardboard box villas
Peeping bloodshot eyes from behind the protection of a soggy wall
Flesh and blood premonitions of our future
All of us cope in different, more socially acceptable ways than this
But a few times a week, whenever we get the chance
We abandon our TV’s and careers and hope
Trading them in for getting so blissfully retarded we can’t remember who Nietzsche is
Our amnestic excursions soon populated every lonely night
We told ourselves we were fighting the urges
But deep down we knew that it’s what we wanted
Because pretending to be dead each night
Was the closest we could get to the real thing
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