shrug your shoulders and become indifferent.
drugs aren't working anymore, and you can't block out your past
and there's not enough cigarettes to block out the stress
what's constant recovery, and who are you?
When you're overdosing and calling it quits,
pale face, blue lips, and you have circles under your eyes
but somehow, you're still alive, just not living too well.
this is the end, and this is nothing but an echo,
and i keep repeating myself, but i wouldn't be able to look at you the same
we move together like the sky seems to move
but the way we move is all an illusion
maybe i'm a hypocrite, but i can't handle the both of us
how am i supposed to keep you from slipping down?
my head hurts and i can't breath.
is this all my fault or your fathers fault?
is there a part of him you left  behind,
or am i a bad influence because i force you think about these things?
i think too much and i'm suffocating, and you look like
what someone looks like when they lose hope,
you remind me of darkness when i'm just trying to live
and maybe i should stay away from you, and take a breath
because death is laughing at the both of us, and we're waving at him
so maybe we should just go back to staring at each other
because we don't know each others names