Some days I drink for my country

Some days I smoke for myself

Some days I dose for the dead

Some days I dance for everyone else

There’s still ravens in the trees

There’s still smoke in the wind

There’s still a madman staring upward

Waiting for something to begin

Stories are pattern recognition

When there ain’t no pattern there

But you can tell somethings right in front of you

Yet all you can see is the cold mist in the air

For now I’m just self-medicated

A little of this and that to get through the day

I’ve got nothing special slated

I’ve got nothing new to say

Gene. G. McLaughlin 2019