We Agnostics

The idea of a higher power Has been obscured by calamity Completely void of spiritual experience Nothing to give purpose or direction I will never believe In the face of collapse and despair The only higher power I see is a bottle of whiskey As the brown bile rises up in my being And assumes control of my faculties I start to believe Let the temporary false happiness Flow from the bottle Let my sense of purpose stem from intoxication As I become lost in the dimming light I fall to my knees Accepting the higher power As it renders me totally impotent I finally believe Now hatred flows through me in liquid form Never again will I succumb to the voices in my mind So dependent on impure substances As many are dependent on their concept of God