I arrived at seven and was home by ten thirty

I’d soon feel lost, deranged and dirty

The demon allowed me to sleep until three

Then he flung up the mattress and me

I was dying

I’ve been dying for a year and a half

My night of hell and of the long knives

Had nowhere to be, nowhere to hide

I bowed in worship of the toilet bowl

I emptied everything including my soul

I was dying

I’ve been dying for a year and a half

Half three then it’s eventually five to four

I called for forgiveness no priest came to the door

I’d neglected my tablets and a whole lot more

I didn’t know yet what was the score

I was dying

I’d been dying for a year and a half

I lay sweating and retching beating myself up

Never again, over and over, became my cup

Then that night, sobbing at the foot of my boy’s bed

Alone and bewildered, it hurt my head

I was dying

I’d been dying for a year and a half

For two shots of sambuca this was what’s to blame

For all my tears and sickness and my shame

A day and a half later I’m still sweating away

I can’t go back here any other day