Low lifes ******* on a paper bag just to watch the colors blast away reality
I looked down on those poor hopeless ******* like a preist at the lost
The buzzing and shaking was better than the cold sharp truth of a sober life
I can't say I know what a sober life is because i'm drunk on hope
I stumbled through life waiting for better times to be handed to me
Now I face the edges of reality and sink in my chair as I drop my head
I find myself craving the warm color filled curves of any drug at all
And you humble paint huffer
I judged too hard
I couldn't see the truth with my face buried in my own paper bag
I found myself craving paint
But at least I found myself