Ryan's Song: A Really Bad Trip

Unfortunately drug abuse accompanies musical talent all too often.

The heroin slithered within my veins
                             oily, potent, and thick.
I clawed at my skin with a need for more -
                             I think I’m gonna be sick.
An oak tree was laughing at my cowardice,
                             blossoming in its mirth.
Aleister Crowley came back from Hell
                             (he’d decided to go to church)
My Strat had begun to sing on its own
                        belting out a daemon's tune.
And when I joined my voice to this macabre song
                        even the shadows swooned.
Now, I’m a stow-away on a slow boat to China
                             ‘cause I’m all outta money.
I was beaten and interrogated by the cops,
                             then I escaped with cunning.
I perplexed those pigs with my penchant for words;
                             spinning rhymes without reason.
So, I’ll be chugging Guinness and toking herb
                             in Amsterdam, come next season.
I’ll smite the President and all his cop-whores
                             who seem to have it in for me,
while I lie to and use all my family and friends
                             until my death sets me free.
Yeah, I’m a stow-away on a slow boat to China
                             (I’d do anything for some nose-candy)
and I’ll still mainline dope and snort that coke
                             until those piggies find me.