Subterfuge

there's a flask of Old Monk
calling out my name
strange kinds of smoke
promise to cloud the pain

pills and ills
will keep me occupied
there's even that poison
waiting by the side

your going away
shouldn't hurt so much
so i'll numb it with addictions
for a lack of your touch

there's old Jack Danny
and a few liters more
of his old friend Johnny
walking on all fours

i don't know what to do
i can't see another way
of living on without you
now that you're going away

there's friends and music
that should distract the mind
chemicals to make me sick
should be easy enough to find

i can surely score a high
that will make me forget
that way that you sigh
and the nook of your neck

you may think this dark
or slanderous to say
but how else do i deal
with your going away?