ABUSED OR JUST USED - IT JUST
DEPENDS ON WHO'S CALLING THE 'SHOTS'...
By Diane Stirling-Stevens (c) - 6/15/1990
Alcohol abuse or misuse
love abuse or a ruse
accusing the spouse who's fucking up
the fuck-up
Put to the test
the spouse needs to rest
the spouse has to cry
but 'hey',
the spouse should not die
The spouse gives you love - you
you've been selected
standing by your side
but you - it is YOU
that's defected
Gone to 'Bud' -who's the 'wiser'
sucking on his tit
and if you think that's all you're doing
that's not
the half
of it.
The family's suffered pain
when you chose Mr. Bud or Mr. Jack
the family thinks it would be better
if you'd put that bottle
of "Old Jack"
back
Go out; smell the coffee - put that shit
upon the shelf
and instead, oh precious loved-one
indulge in the
spirit of
yourself!
In the SPIRIT OF SELF
one is not intoxicated
In the SPIRIT OF SELF
one is merely exhilarated
in the joy of your own birth
be a mirror of your worth
and return this gift of love
not as a screaming hawk
but as a gentle dove!
No one is a salamander
unless one is a salamander
No one stays in the gutter
unless they're too
afraid to utter
what is really being free
is making sweet-talk about
what is very right with me!
It's the foolish man who tries to fool
and it's not the same as
what I do
It's not about making poetic words and rhyme
having run-off-at-the-mouth
while running out of time!
The death-bed's your confession cradle
much too late you are too wise
the coffin is the cap - the cork
that bottles you up permanently
death is no disguise
Yes, your downer will be your down
and like some jaded and drunken clown
you'll be sealed up in your tomb
then it's back to another womb
and if there's a new beginning
a second birth of your spirit
this time when some one says "I love you"
do you think you'll really hear it?
Be it boot-straps or be it springs
will you pull up; spring up and sing
will you reach for that shining star
or just be sitting in a bar?
The stool of the dunce
is the throne of the king
the stool of the fool
is the bar stool that stings
your ass is in a sling
your butt is in a wringer
the bottle you rely on
will give you nothing but
a zinger.
Is your back-bone your only brace
and that shoe with the untied lace
is it the quicker-tripper-over
when another death you face?
A walking death; yet you function
playing near to your destruction
maybe you're a carpenter who's daily duty
is hammering up new construction
but you're blowing smoke while being sucked in
the black-hole's the carpet
that you've laid and cast in concrete
the DUI's from the car you drove
the joy ride you should be taking is the
'auto-be-on-your-feet'!
Who's your daddy - who's your caddy
who's caused you all your problem
Is it because you've been spoon-fed
and you don't like the taste of
Pablum?
So put the throttle to the bottle
from the mother's milk to beer
blame everyone but yourself
because your buck's now lost - you're out of work
and your only buck's stopped here!
You say you like it better fishing
watching your bobber float
and even when your body's stinking
you're sinking in that rotting boat
You're without a motor; without a paddle
you said being sober was nothing
but fiddle-faddle
You don't care - you don't see
With 'Bud, the Wiser' - you can't be free
You've played this game and this game's too long
and how many cards did you have to hold
and when you had the chance to bet
you laid down your hand, and said
"I fold"....
Well sweetheart, I can't hold you now
it's curtain-call - take your final bow
and before I leave you - hey, 'nice guy'
I'm glad I won't be beside you
when your liver's 'shot' - and you're going
to die!
Yes I'm bowing out; yes I might be bending
But I don't want to be around
to read the condolences they'll all be
sending
You say you'll never quit
you won't stop drinking until you're dead
Well honey, this round's on me
"Hey, what's the damages - did you say your name was Fred?"
