Half a Day a Week

I have found a lack of sympathy

For my chemically dependant brothers and sisters.

It disturbs me my eye rolling attitudes,

I search through my studies of gods,

I search for the compassion within me.

And I only have it half a day a week.

I try and I try and I try and I try,

Having myself cross the fucking death junk line,

The forcid cock the back hand of love,

I know, I know, I know I, know,

If I can get my shit clean after all the shit I seen,

If I can still fall in love,

And laugh my head off at my life,

And my hard hard lessons.

Then why don't you you rich 35 yr. old junkie fuck,

I want compassion for you, but my friend I have none!

You bear your victimization like a cross, a crutch.

Your lazy, its easier than to cop out than to rise above,

Believe me, believe you me,

I can't believe you but just to be nice