we sang along to the same
ten songs, until we thought
we found solutions to problems
we didn't know we had
we hid our fear under
mohawks & dreadlocks
and stitched our sadness
in with India ink
on our knee caps
and metal in our
faces

we looked pretty from the outside
but I remember the tears that swallowed
his blue eyes when he said
"i just hope for his sake,
next time he dies"
because addiction was a pain
none of us knew how to mend
and it left a hole right through us,
no amount of music could fill

when i was five my mom
used to tell me
that it was all fun
and games until
someone got hurt;
i don't think she knew
at the time just how familiar
i'd be with that concept
by the time i was
nineteen

i stopped getting memorial tattoos
after the sixth one,
and i stopped trying to quit
chain smoking when i finally realized
we were all gonna die

blood red hair
and blood shot eyes
i know how love feels
when it sighs a worn out
goodbye