I like to drink...
I can't really help this.
But sometimes I can't help but feel
As if I'm being selfish.
I'm sorry for needing a bottle
And always having one on hand.
But it just does something for me...
You couldn't possibly understand.
You don't suffer from anxiety
Panic disorder, or depression.
If only you knew what it was like...
You'd understand it's my repression.
And the extent to which I suffer,
It's unbearable somedays.
So I pour myself a drink...
To make it temporarily go away.
And it helps for that moment,
For that minute, for that hour.
And all the shit that torments me
Has no meaning, has no power.
All the pain disintegrates
All the worry disappears,
And with it go my insecurities...
All my stupid little fears.
In that moment I'm free,
Careless, calm, and numb.
False sense of happiness, I know.
But I can't help but love that rum.
