You do it for the fleeting feeling
Of pure bliss, stealing
The seat of your mind, controlling you
But you happen to like the taste, and the label too
Just one more, now make it two
Morning, afternoon, evening, midnight
Losing all sense of time and space–and your own sense of sight
“Where are you going?
The demons and the angels are crying
At such a waste of life.
What ever you do, don’t jump off that cliff.”