Crouched back in the attic of my past
Sits the faceless people I used to know
Those I snorted dope with
Or smoked dope with
And because it’s been decades since they've defined me
They sit in the crevices of my subconscious
Attic junkies
Tweaking in the far back corner of my mind
And like warped wood they add character
But aren’t very nice to look at