Tag Archives: metronome

The Only Drug I’ve Never Learned to Hate


I found light inside of lyrics when I was young,
facing the darkness with words sparking from my tongue.
If those lines hadn’t spoken deep inside my soul
would there be enough of me to harmonize whole?
Drifting through memories darker than the oceans deep,
I’ve yet to know a metronome that couldn’t make me weep.
Music is the only drug I’ve never learned to hate,
melody spiraling me down the interstate.

The microphone shakes as I hold it in my hand,
but screaming aloud is how I taught myself to stand.
Stand up for others, stand up for myself;
do what is right for the world and my health.

If nightmares walk in daylight I’ll be the sunrise,
stanzas birthed in hope growing taller than the lies.
Bars an outlet for the beat, rhythm my only therapy,
I forsake alcohol for sound and let myself drown.

As I make my way home bass thrums in my bones,
knowing somehow I’ll never face the world alone.

Drifting through memories darker than the oceans deep,
I’ve yet to know a metronome that couldn’t make me weep.
Music is the only drug I’ve never learned to hate,
melody spiraling me down the interstate.