Lost,
in quiet reverie.
Lost,
in thoughts of you.
Lost,
the days of innocents,
before we knew the truth.
You promised it would change one day.
The spike no longer needed.
Entitled by the things you stole
Meth's fuzzy way of reason.
You stole from family, stole from friends
whoever you encountered.
To keep the poison in your veins
was all that ever mattered.
Though beatings, bullets, jail time
you never missed a beat.
Whenever she was singing
the needles call was sweet.
There is no moral to this tale
A families loss comes quickly
an officers knock upon the door
And final rights are given.
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 10:39 PM UTC
Lost,
in quiet reverie.
Lost,
in thoughts of you.
Lost,
the days of innocents,
before we knew the truth.
You promised it would change one day.
The spike no longer needed.
Entitled by the things you stole
Meth's fuzzy way of reason.
You stole from family, stole from friends
whoever you encountered.
To keep the poison in your veins
was all that ever mattered.
Though beatings, bullets, jail time
you never missed a beat.
Whenever she was singing
the needles call was sweet.
There is no moral to this tale
A families loss comes quickly
an officers knock upon the door
And final rights are given.
