There’s a hole in my soul, dear Liza, dear Liza,
There’s a hole in my soul, dear Liza, a hole.
Then fix it dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Then fix it dear Henry, dear Henry, fix it.
With what shall I fix it, dear Liza, dear Liza,
With what shall I fix it, dear Liza, with what?
You heard. Therapy.
Or, my dear Henry, you ought to be prepared to be dealing with that demon for as long as it wants to taunt you, and you know where that mess can end don’t you? At the end of a rope, the bottom of a bottle, messy side up underneath a bridge or sleeping off that full bottle of sleeping pills FOREVER.
Do you want to go there? Do you? Then step up, be brave, it’s not a big deal in the world we live in and it’s your best chance of shirking those ails, slaying those demons, beating that monkey from your back.
Trust me. I’ve been there. It saved my life.
All my love,
PS: We also need a new bucket