Wednesday 23 January 2008

SUgAr by Michelle Marr

SUgAr’s so sweet, it’s like powdered honey,
The bees who produce it know it’s all about money.
It lures us in and gets a grip on our mind,
Family and friends, they’re all left behind

We give up our lives and sell out our soul,
Just one more bag and then we’ll take control.
Pay off the bills and try to keep some pride,
But the hunger starts to eat us up deep down inside

Before we know it, the weekend’s upon us
Just one more bag: call it a bonus!
Promise yourself that by Monday it’s gone.
Life can be lonely, but you know it goes on

In the blink of an eye and the flap of a wing,
It’s Friday again and the SUgAr is King.
Take me away and make me Queen of your world;
By Monday I’ll own it and won’t come unfurled

I’ll stick by my promises and get myself clean,
But by the weekend you’ll still follow its sheen
You’ll try to resist it and you’ll try to pretend
The fluffy white SUgAr won’t signal your end

We all lose our focus at one stage in time,
The bees making honey still know it’s a crime.
You cannot resist it and you can’t say no,
The powder keeps falling, like sweet white snow

Got so many questions, you think it will resolve;
But all SUgAr will do, is help the brain cells dissolve.
Morning comes, your head hurts and your nose is bleeding;
The SUgAr’s still sweet and it keeps on feeding.

The stand off is on and the struggle's begun,
Just one weekend and you think the battles been won.
Then the buzzer sounds, there’s a friend at your door;
But the friend is a pimp and the SUgAr’s his whore…

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