Deny myself the freedom

 In being liberal and at ease
Sung my depression in a mild irksome poverty
Worn on my beer soaked sleeve
Wrung into my glass of wild turkey whiskey

But that’s enough about the drink
I think I’ve even had enough
Of me, to finally drift to sleep

Denying myself the pleasure is a picture I can’t paint
But I also hate the pressure of comedowns you can’t escape

And I do feel my health
I hear my youth lying to me
And I do fear a slow death
I feel like I owe the rest
And in truth I’m dying to see

Although it’s probably just a big empty space
A place in time made to be just as empty as me