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my back is killing me from all these knives
who tells the truth anymore anyways?
the darkness keeps calling me
and im loosing the strength of resisting
dont tell me you love me, you dont even know me
you love the things you steal from me
so whats friendship anymore?
an excuse to use people for your own improvement
dont tell me it will be okay
dont tell me you care
i know its bullshit anyways
my back hurts but theres no one here to rub it
i dont have anything left to steal
therefore i have no one left to hold me
life spirals downwards
a choice of two exhausting fates
to live happiness and disease
or to live success and boredom
my outsides are scar tissue
my insides are acidic wastes
i need more drugs, make this go away
stop stabbing me in the back
who can i trust when no one is trustworthy?
where can i get high enough to forget absolutely everything?
theres no point to any of this anymore
all i live for
is next weekend
when i can get high
when i can forget
when i can hopefully kill enough braincells
to completely forget myself
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