How much of your wretched life can there actually be left,
When from noon to night you think about your death.
Dreaming about it morning and night,
Anytimes cool,even now is alright
Fantasizing in so many different ways-
You see the end result your just not sure about the plays.
The most fucked up part is it's not bothering me at all-
Rather that than going through another case of withdrawal.
Sad and fucked up as it might sound,
It sound much easier than coming around.
Being more worried about the couple of people left behind,
Can this fucking white powder make you so amazingly blind-
To everything in this world:good and pure?
There's not much of that left-rather focus on finding a cure.
Optimistic people will say shit like-there is always hope,
Maybe you'll feel that way if you had enough dope to smoke
Case from where I'm standing I can't seem to see,
Where all the hope could actually be.
So forget about that and focus on'just for today'
Fuck off and stop being so cliché...
With undertones of smack on my breath every day,
How easy would it be to make all this shit go away?
I am buried up to my neck in
I take pride as the kind of illiterature
I'm very ape and very nice
If you ever need anything please don't hesitate
to ask someone else first
I'm too busy acting like I'm not naive.
I've seen it all I was here first