Off my meds in Atlantic City Snow-bound roads all now are closed-- But the blizzard makes it pretty. My cash and me, we part quite quickly. (Seems to this I'm predisposed) So off my meds in Atlantic City. Cabin fever has no pity The Boardwalk offers no repose Though the blizzard makes it pretty The second day, I'm feeling gritty. I just want a change of clothes! I'm off my meds in Atlantic City. Host comps a room; he hears my plea. Sleep, then shower. Still it snows, But, gee, the blizzard makes it pretty. A quick day trip turned most lengthy, On which this poem was composed-- Off my meds in Atlantic City, And the blizzard made it pretty.