When my mouth is dry and my throat feels rough
When my eyes are red 'cause I've cried enough
I reach for my pen and begin to spill
Words and phrases escape at their free will
But three long months have gone by and I've lost
The magic that made a living ghost
I pickled my talents in a glass jar
Sat on a chair and lit up my cigar
I failed the love I had for rhyme and song
The love that gave me sense of right and wrong
Nights were harsh and I could not grasp some sleep
Nightmares followed and hauntings long and deep
But it's always darkest before dawn breaks
I popped that jar open and formed great lakes
