Therapy

I think I'll pack my things up, and move to Philadelphia Maybe a change of setting could fix my head and lift my spirits some Lately I've felt pressure to get better from the ones I love I'm taking steps to get there I swear and promise I haven't given up So please don't stress I will be fine I'm told that things will get better with time I've no more aspirations, but I do have dreams They're of falling, failing, slipping, and running out of weed Cracks in my windshield conceal where I ought to be I pay someone to try and fix it though I see them weekly I've no more aspirations, but I do have drinks A Whiskey, Gin and Tonic, what more could I need? My mother tells me that I'm not where I should be It must be just past those mountains Over which I cannot see