Neither am I Puritan nor pleasure seeking Sybarite;
Like to have a good time while staving off eternal night.
Fear consequence of life spent in hedonistic lairs,
Can’t count all who burned out young who thought that they were players.
Knife’s edge is Sirens’ tightrope where walking is most fun,
Lean forward over precipice but look out for number one.
Too many trips to Neverland do not a young man keep,
Addictive personalities quickly get in trouble deep.
Count twenty seven flavors of life spun out of control,
Heartache and anguish multiply as nature takes her toll.
Each thrill exceeds the previous or what the hell’s the point?
Reality gets skewered, perspective falls in disjoint.
Still we ride among the clouds knowing it can’t happen to us,
Once stripped of self control only in thrills do we trust.