My fix

Monday morning and my fix;
I got the shakes;
Like a bigdog.

Puzzling to see that damn jones of mine
Always getting in the way.
It's one of those manic Mondays,
And Sunday was a bitch.
I've been fiending all weekend;
Only thing I had was a half pack of rolling tobacco,
And that was not a joke.

The dude upstairs,
Every fifteen minutes asks me for a rolly.
Can't stop now; he has a hold on my leg.
No doubt in my mind: it seems this is going to continue.
Damn, man, that Monday morning fix.
This dude upstairs not only wants a rolly,
He's down for a coffee, too:
Black and no sugar.

Sometimes I dwell on the fact that this shit can't go on.
I've got to pick up some pills;
They call them Wellbutrin, to curb the cigarette habit.
Because going on like this, I'm a dead man in five years:
Won't see my dreams come true.
Kick it now, and I'm on the right road.