There’s a pill box on the counter as the fool takes the stage.

There’s a river that won’t catch my fall, but a man that teaches me to turn the page.

There’s a train that runs dragging me under East, but a conductor that is headed North and West.

A tapered, razored – edge lies in my coat’s pocket, yet there’s a lady at my door who’s just confessed.

There’s booze on every corner but a cop that’s flagged them all.

I have three full prescriptions left to end this life in peace, but angels that stand round my bed to break my fall.

Which way to go or which way to choose is a troubling thought indeed.

It’s planting me six feet under or it’s pushing up the flower planted by a daisy’s seed.





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