Apathy Wins the War

In the morning my head is full,
My eyes are lost in the fog
Of some stupid, little drugged out dream
That I can’t remember right now,
And, if I’m lucky, I never will.
In fact, I kind of hope it goes away.

I smoke a cigarette, take some speed,
Drink some coffee to kill the dream.
Hope to get as far away from sleep
As any human possibly can.
These dreams don’t help me,
They only bring back painful things,
Like memories I really hoped I’d burnt away.

I thought the sleeping pills would stop them,
But the dreams just came less often.
They just in the dark corners of my mind
Waiting for their chance to come out when I was weak
To cut the deepest wound they could in my brain

I thought codeine would help,
But it just made me slow and brought the fog.
So now I’m halfway there, almost here, but not quite,
Stuck in between me and my brain.
I feel hollow because I am.
It can’t be helped without rekindling my hope.

I can’t do that.
It wouldn’t be right to use my hope
To crush my dreams.