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  1. Count Quagula
    Day 8

    So I relapsed today
    Yep, back to my ways
    No more black and grey

    Just white...
    Same color as stadium lights
    Who the fuck was made for this right
    Could this be why when I'm down I stay trife
    And when I'm up, I creatively write
    See, for you and me, it's the same to us right

    So wheres my head at
    Do I rethink and take a step back
    And where the fuck are the meds at
    Not pills, but a meth sack
    And fuck rehab it's just a place to rest at
    You know, a spot to comedown where I could lay my head at
    Shit, I'de rather be in a gutter near the dumpster with the dead rats
    Then on a bed mat, practically with my neck strapped
    The same institution where I met my ex at
    This could be the last hit once I catch my breath back
    I put that on my mother's eyes and you can bet that
    So where the the fuck is my head at...

    Somewhere other than top of the body
    Lost somewhere probably
    The head was found after detoxing the body
    When sober I was more like John fucking Gotti
    Angry and saucy
    If we had met you would have probably wanted to off me

    Anyways back to relapsing ... which was done ever so godly
    And I'm not being clever or cocky
    It just that why try and fly when Im better at walking
    Something you should do more often instead of talking

    This instinct to get high seemed basic and prime
    After the "I almost made it to 9"
    A lightbulb clicked and I made up my mind
    Got one fat sack and pressed play on rewind
    Back to a more comfortable date with in time
    Once able to paint the whole picture in mind
    Now unreachable and too difficult to climb
    I felt I was wasting my time
    So get high ... it's truly an ancient design.



    "I'll sleep when I'm dead" - unknown

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