Practically Superman by Sophie

Sitting in the office, tapping your feet
The old familiar one-two beat
Will he or won’t he provide what you seek?

Pills or powders, you don’t give a damn
All shoved down your gullet as fast as you can
The fading of tiredness, irritation, the shakes
Reassures you that friends all made a mistake

When they tell you to check in
To that place on the coast
“No, seriously man, you look like a ghost!”

Though your excuse of feeble health rings hollow
It’s a bitter pill they still choose to swallow.
Heh. Bitter pill, you think to yourself
As your eyes wander down the pharmacy shelf

“To my health!” you exclaim as you grab a few bottles
But the celebratory mood soon turns hostile
You run out the door, make a quick escape
You’re practically Superman, minus the cape

Lost in the high, not a care in the world
Mind gone blank and troubles unheard
That sweet oblivion, rush of blood to the head
Some people choose love. You chose dope instead.

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