Oh you, with the bottle of sour liquor in your hands.
Swaying back and forth, on the pretense of happiness.
Are you only ever happy when you are drunk?
Sailing away from pain on a boat of glass, know this:
Pain has a sour-sweet sensation:
Just like your bottle.
Oh you, who have never known true happiness.
Only that extracted from the bottom of a vessel;
That bottomless vessel.
I ask, do you know what pain really is?
Or do you only know what you feel?

Oh you, listen well:
Doomed are the critics of the world.
Doomed am I, you say.
Doomed also is that liquor trapped in your hands
Doomed also, are you, trapped in the hands of liquor.

They told me the sky changed colors every time you looked up. They said you could touch the stars if you stood on your toes and reached real high. They told me the world was round and green and it spun and spun and spun.
They were wrong.
The sky is blood-thirsty and tells me to stay away. The stars are rude, indifferent and unreachable And the world doesn't spin; it rocks back and forth and back and forth; until, I tip over the edge.

The Past Me.

When I look at yesterday,
eyes bright and souls,clean,
Do sing the song of true happiness-
not this sorrow,
this tedious sorrow.
My heart aches for the past.
But shies away from it.
For I am so much more
And so much less,
then I used to be.