In tablet theirs where soul does stir
Throughout the day and night words slurred
By Jack Daniels in shot glass or cup of Joe
Is sipped again to wake a soul
Here is where their fix remains
Life's joy and pain running through veins
Bloodstream of many colors spill
A wicked write yet to be filled
Deep their story line will read
Uncontrolled they'll intercede
With reader, writer alike
A fix their own to birth tonight
Ten percent of brain to share
Maybe much more they'll bear
Of themselves before strangers
Eyes that fill with thrill of dangers
Unafraid their posts will read
Confessing things that make hearts bleed
For them, for you who knows too well
Of Heavens scent and fires Hell
Dark and light will come forth
From East to West, from South and North
The writers fix is you their drug of choice
So come now read silent their voice
