The truth?
The truth is that he was only beautiful when he was on drugs
So, he was almost always beautiful
No
He was almost always gorgeous
But it didn't matter.
He'd never get high enough to touch heaven
The holes he poked in his arms wouldn't fill the hole in his life
Nothing he could ever say would un-cry my tears, un-shoot those bullets, or un-break our hearts
Running away wouldn't make that one life-ruining ***** cell do a backstroke
He was beautiful when he was on drugs
But he wasn't on drugs when that little stick turned pink
He wasn't on drugs when I walked in and out of that clinic alone
He wasn't on drugs when I had to sit down and tell his parents and mine that there was no more "baby"
No
He wasn't on drugs
​He just wasn't there.