How Many Graves Can You Dig Before Your Own?

Too many difficult days accumulate Like weeds in an otherwise pleasant field; Every heartache becomes a hammer And drives depression into the soul like a nail; Some friends alleviate the sorrow like a balm And others gently kiss your cheek like Judas; I dream of a drunken avenue in the summer Where children play and cars move slowly and sweet Like a merry-go-round and no one is unhappy. I want only to toast the departing of sunlight at dusk And have the moonlight pour my next glass of wine; I seek to dance for awhile and then welcome oblivion, I cherish the day when mirrors will no longer take notice of me.