Thoughts of those last thirty six, death and reality a perfect mix, labeled dex the perfect fix, life and death what would you pick, so many grams it was sick, three after the first eight did the trick, walking under a forgotten moon, looked to the sky and whispered I'll see you soon, strangers and loved ones filled the room, nine followed by a mental boom, when it rains it pours and this a mental monsoon, whats death to the dead, thoughts of leaping over the edge swimming through my head, open my eyes and I'm laying in bed, roll over and let the trip begin, a past filled with so much sin, but I say I'm more than the person I was back then, oh but then again, I guess I will find out when I reach my end, sadly I think death is my only real friend, at least he doesn't have to pretend..