My fault,
And only my own.
That's what you say
In your dim dark tone.
I pick up the phone,
Shaking with rage.
You have my senses
Locked in a cage.
But I stay,
And fray,
For you know best.
Studying my words,
Like an upcoming test.
Taking my heart
To put it in rest.
And that is something,
I deeply detest.
Yet I still
Stay,

For my mind has reset.

Passenger seat of your Pontiac, a cigarette in hand
Second-hand smoke childhood, grown up on-demand
As addiction sows her seeds in me, I’ll pass it back to you
Our teenage love is dangerous, but your beater car is blue
We can race down the backroads, find a quiet place
Light a joint and take a hit. My fate with you is laced
Your psychedelic highs, may they guide your plight
Speeding up the highway, with but a cigarette for light
Our parents drank their sorrows, gave the rest to us
So here we are, tried and true, with a shot between my bust

Tell me, which is harder.
Waiting for something you know will never be in your cards,
or having to come with the terms that it will never happen.