i am the hero of my own life
without a family without a wife
but nevertheless plenty of strife

for want of wear i was lacking
the town i was sacking
my mind i was racking

another round into the chamber
of my sordid delight
no end in sight night after night

i burnt the candle at both ends
at once twice even thrice
removed from the reality

that affects mere mortals
i the hero
my very own nero

setting the world ablaze
in an Afghan hash haze
and all those sorry assed days

come to naught
for what i sought
could not be bought
or at least so i had been taught

by the esteemed grey heads
in tales told to the young
who were only young for a moment
in the time that was mine
but eternal the kernel
of truth that remained
to inform my soul

of a better daze and hazier ways
along my own private path
to heaven's gate
only to end prostrate
from the pain in my prostate