Thought Industry - D.I.Y. Tranquilizers

I) There's Possum in the Morphine Fields

Miasma will befriend like a well oiled palm. The grass
is so green. The grass is so clean. Besides the oaks I
blink beneath one tree to flow. Amongst the stones I
quake within it's grave to spin. I'll spin.

I can't make any sense anymore. My verse falls empty.
Words now enemies. I'm going home.

There's one chance to be lost. There's one day I won't
be drunk. Goddamned, I'm bleeding all.

II) My Pills... Quick

To see no one. Must be my tranquilizers. Enlisting my
scorched Earth and barbed wire. I don't feel tranquil.
I feel confused. I am confused.

"I'm sick to death of the shit of hicks in turtlenecks."
- Old Man Lowry