The dreams still come and go

Lying wounded on a beach

With shrapnel in my leg

My only weapon is a knife



And there is this golden fluid

A bag full of tiny bottles

Its a promise for relief

The key for my survival



So I feel, yes I feel the need

To lock myself up in a room

Squirt some morphine into my veins

To leave this cruel world for a while



And when I close my eyes

I find myself somewhere else

In a world built on illusions

Where compulsions are expelled



Out of a need I had to use it

Although I never thought I would

And before I was aware

This need was present every day



A golden mirror for my soul

Will be injected through a syringe

Slowly creeping up my vein

To hit the center of myself