No More Excuses

When the sun goes down

you see them.

Shadows of people who

once had a care.

From city to town,

It feeds them.

The darkness surrounds,

It raises the hair

On my arms, I carry a body.

Unconscious from too

many shots of their poison.

The harm from a toxic lottery.

The destructive paths that are

ignorantly chosen.

Arose from their slumber, they

rumble about as they grumble

and shout from their makeshift

coffins.

I suppose as I wonder, why they

sell themselves out, as their fear

and their doubt, leads to death

too often.

Running from pain, like a

run away train. 

Write a prescription for

more amphetamine.

Another prediction,

more death from cocaine.

The poppy fields in China,

are in need of more rain.

I'm watching this dame,

freaking out in the rain.

Screaming and crying,

trying to scrub out the stain.

Insane from the fast lane.

Tweaking out your brain.

Scheming and trying,

buying into the game.

They must be confused

because drugs are for losers.

Short circuiting fuses, 

Thug life is for users.

This pattern of abuse is

internal combustion.

No More Excuses!

No More Corruption.

When their high comes down,

you see them.

Hollow and frail, pockets

empty and bare.

From frown to frown,

We pity them.

Resentment abounds,

it cuts off the air

to the lungs, they hold their hit.

Nauseous from blood spilt

and the smoke from their gun.

The rungs of their ladders have

split. The weight of their addiction

is that of a ton.

So close, the key and tumbler.

The blunder, no doubt is the

going without of the things

that we count as true profit.

It shows in the umber as they

bleed themselves out, A

spiritual drought leads to

those that cash out with all

of our names on the docket.

You're all deranged if you

think it'll change.

They killed the rendition of

'Home On The Range'.

Another subscription to

Life hooked on heroin.

Playing Russian Roulette

with Dr. Kevorkian.

I'm watching this man,

do all that he can.

He can't even stand, blood

dripping from his hands.

Then up pulls a van, 

and a sudden, blam - blam.

The sand turned from tan,

as the color left that man.

So many amused by the

losses of others.

They must be confused, that

is the life of your brother.

This pattern of abuse, we

must refuse the seduction.

No more excuses!

No More Corruption!