Hate lies in her heart, and she cares less about life each day.
She always feels lost, she falls and can't find her way.
Her dreams once live and hopeful, now show darkness and fear.
When she faces reality, her big brown eye slices a tear.
Destruction she feels, sorrow she tastes, and death she sees.
She cries out for help, but no one hears her pleas.
This world doesn't even care to try.
She lives for what, but getting high.
Pot is always accessible, LSD is too.
Coke is great, crack kills, and on shrooms she flew.
Friends: They no longer exist, except for the ones whose up she'll try.
When sober, all of her dreams are of sleeping to die.
She atands tall and tells the world to fuck off.
She no longer laughs, and things grow tough.
Tough to try and tough to care.
Pills shine and dope dares.
Beer stumbles and acid trips.
She corners herself and her mind flips.
Her head turns and the bottle falls.
Life or death? One critical moment to make my call. |
