i'm erica.

if happiness was bottled i'd buy a forty ounce
and if i had a pet tourist i'd teach him how to count
but the humidity's dried me out and it's really hard to think
i ponder the impossible and fix another drink
my psychiatrist thinks i'm crazy, my mom won't accept my calls
the infomercial salesman has that audience by the balls
if i was a deity i'd sleep a thousand years
and if i met another god i'd buy that god a beer
sobriety sets on empty pockets, my creativity stops it's flow
what was i just saying?
oh shit, i don't know