Lots of writers are also drunks so why should I be different, because I march to the beat of a different drum and I'm so damn independent, why everybody's headed north I'm detouring to the west, and when their scared and hunkered down I've took off my bullet proof vest, life's a quest no time to rest don't second guess or dwell upon what caused such stress and I confess I've been distressed on how this game of chess called life has not impressed had no success and furthermore been less than blessed, but it seems to me the tide is turning, there's receding in the fire burning, and I'm finding life a little less concerning, flirting with the idea of chaos free stability, it's within my grasp and I have the agility, but do I have the ability to out race the hate eliminate the fake and keep everything real to me, that appeals to me, no thrill you see but war, how can I ignore a battle towards what I'm fighting for, no surrender no retreat it ends tonight there's no...