Ever had one of those days when you think you do not fit?
You’ve got the anti-Midas touch. You touch it, it turns to shit.
You wake up feeling immediately bad
And you make the choice to be deliberately sad.
As though, when you are flat you’re in some kind of bliss
If you tried to shoot yourself in the head, you would miss.
The act of fucking up gets some how fucked up
And that which runneth over isn’t your cup.
From time to time that description is mine
Thank God today for beer and red wine.