my old addiction changed the wiring in my brain so that when it turns the switches then i am not the same so like the flowers toward the sun i will follow stretch myself out thin like there s a part of me that s already buried that sends me out into this window my old addiction is a flood upon the land this tiny lifeboat can keep me dry but my weight is all that it can stand so when i try to lean just a little for just a splash to cool my face ahh that trickle turns out fickle fills my boat up five miles deep my old addiction makes me crave only what is best like these just this morning song birds craving upward from the nest these tiny birds outside my window take my hand to be their mom these open mouths would trust and swallow anything that came along like my old addiction now the other side of day as the springtime of my life s time turn s the other way if a swan can have a song i think i know that tune but the page is only scrawled and i am gone this afternoon but the page is only scrawled and i am gone this afternoon1