Your list of warnings do not scare me
But your promises do,
as so far they have proved to be untrue.
In consuming you, you are supposed to
slow my heart, control my brain,
pump pure happiness around my veins.
I take you with food, just like you asked
and in return I think that you should
do all the things that you said you would.
Continue to play your placebo tricks
and keep on raising your prices
But I beg of you to rid me of my vices.
Every day three little pink ones,
two white, one mottled blue,
I don’t think I can live without you.
But too much is never enough
And he’s going to up my dose
Recovery doesn’t feel remotely close.
Treacle Heart 