Sobering up with my mother

There are some experiences that I would not wish for myself

Or any other

And one of those is sobering up

With my mother.

You see, the evils of society I blotted very early with curly wisps of smoke

And some have said, not in joke that I'm easier to cope with when I'm blazing dope

And so what hope

Sobering up with my mother

All in all drug withdrawal ought be called a good

For I stall in cloudy shawls enthralled longer than I should

But when the switches start to spark again there is oft some fire

I'd be a liar to desire this quagmire for I, my sister or my brother

Don't try

Sobering up with my mother.

Some arithmetic is additive some follows power laws

And trouble does not double but multiplies by threes and fours

Of minds I find some clearer, I hope better you treat yours

But mines been kippered up with biftas, since very early doors.

But ontologous onerous love calls the mortal in us all

And if I was the author I might not write it quite like this

But I cannot forestall for down the hill her house does fall

I hope no one gets killed, I will, life insists

Be sobering up with my mother.