How many Quaaludes must I consume, before I forget?
How many drugs will it take to lose this ongoing regret?
Will I spill my vomit in disdain upon this last request?
or will I just spin off discombobulated and fail this final test..
Rolling silver up to pass the time away..
Selling it off for change to wait it thru the day..
Wiping the lost lives off the table, so smooth..
Where I'm the only one who has something to prove..
Lost in this maze of fake smiles and unjust tips..
where you just get to watch all the passer-by ships..
Each with a different life, each with a new cause..
even within reach, we all have to take a huge pause..
Selling these hours away for merely change..
Doesn’t this all just seem a little too strange?
Stuck in this maze of found bills and lost cash..
Where it all comes down to the size of your stash..

Is this the place where dreams are sold?
Is this the land of the placid techno buzz gold?
Is this what we want our dreams to represent?
or are we all just trying to live in the present.

08/30/2003

Author's Note: This is about being a waiter... the dreams.. the regrets.. having to serve someone else to survive.

Posted on 08/30/2003
Copyright © 2025 Aaron Howard