Here's a w(rap) of misery for you. Based on the time I ended up in rehab for the second time after two overdoses on some rat-poisoned gear that wasn't easy. Enough to put anyone off going (back) down the dirt-brown track? It was my last straw situation as far as heroin was concerned. The good times had had it at that point, spurred on by the twin towers war on (drugs/opium/terror? You decide)...

Eleven Year Blues

I used to be pinned

But my tolerance is rising

I used to feel the rush

But the lack of it’s surprising

I used to chase dreams

Now the mainline is collapsing

I used to feel high

Now normality ain’t relaxing

Sitting in reality the heroin don’t cut it

And I’m shitting myself believing in the lies: how shall I put it?

How many times did I recover without recovery?

How many miles did I stagger towards the lover me

Arse hangin out of a pair of bondage trousers

Pickin’ me scabs and eating them then calling straightheads losers

How many nights of insomnia and nightmares

Visions of my funeral some fucker get me outta here

Holding together forevers that never exceeded expectations

Monsters from peripheries delusional lamentations

Music in my mind but the decks ain’t got a record on

Bouncing off the tenements and back at me and then it’s gone

Some motherfucker throws a quid at me and goes

With a face full of pity, I ain’t beggin’ but it shows

Am I destined for the place where humanity gives up on me

From needle to the grave what society expects of me

Diggin’ holes in my soul leaving black tattoo spots

My veins are running out and I’m just left with whats

Give me strength to go on cos I ain’t got none,

Cos I’m pukin’ up the bile and my sanity’s gone

Pissing blood, sunken eyes like the junkie clichés

Kissing mud drunk on lies as I dream of my grave

Guess that’s the place that I called rock bottom

Remember me to paradise before I’m forgotten.