Barbiturous Night (Revision)

Why does my drink in hand Sour in its taste While all the thoughts within me, Are all of inevitable waste? Am I dreaming? Or are these thoughts my own Not a fierce example Of what my subconcious has seldom shown What is that taste? An after-taste I sense Are senses truely senses Or thoughts with a false pretense Wake up damn you! While you have the chance to run Think to yourself a while Before you do what can't be undone. Just wait for a while Take the keys out of the ignition. Why is it so difficult To complete this simple mission? Stop sipping out of nervousness Why am I breathing so much? Why is the engine running And why can I not feel what I touch? This is not a dream. It cant be, it must be real But if that is the case, Why can I not feel. So numb, it's almost painful But I can clearly think It seems as though I must Take another sip of this drink It's gone now... The sour taste is evaded Instead it has no taste at all The lights all seem so faded I'm no longer seeing Well, through my previous point of view I'm not Someone else is sitting I still can think his thoughts Wake up damn you! Take out the keys! The garage door is closed, I listen to him wheeze. No longer is the question To be, or not to be. It seems so clear when said outloud "There is no point to me." So numb, it's scaring me But I can hear him think Thoughts mix through our minds As the drug swirls in his drink. I see the drug within the glass I absorb its great effect To make its message inside my mind So sharp, and so direct After consuming the drug These thoughts seem so very true I won't move a muscle So I can do what I can't undo.