The dreams still come and go   Lying wounded on a beach   With shrapnel in my leg   My only weapon is a knife       And there is this golden fluid   A bag full of tiny bottles   It's a promise for relief   The key for my survival       So I feel, yes I feel the need   To lock myself up in a room   Squirt some morphine into my veins   To leave this cruel world for a while       And when I close my eyes   I find myself somewhere else   In a world built on illusions   Where compulsions are expelled       Out of a need I had to use it   Although I never thought I would   And before I was aware   This need was present every day       A golden mirror for my soul   Will be injected through a syringe   Slowly creeping up my vein   To hit the center of myself