She throws her head around and around and around and around and around
Like a five year old trying to slow down a ceiling fan to see it one blade at a time
She's got little pieces of tore up toilet paper on the inside of her right thigh
There's no room left on her face for new scars
She's got her stash locked tight
In lighter sealed plastic wrap
Inside a film container
Lying in a sandwich bag wit ha glass pipe, tin foil, and a purple lighter
All in a Crown Royal bag
Taped to the back of her TV
Every time she gets it out she wonders why she ever went through the hassle of putting it away in the first place

Inhale
Exhale

She has to remind herself now that her body has forgotten how
Her lungs are working so hard
Her heart beating so fast
That's moving like an addict
She moves like a user

Her cave is a fortress
The enemy is the light
Her house is a really really really big blanket fort surrounded by drywall
Her days are twenty four hours of twenty four hours of twenty four hours of darkness
Until they're twenty four hours of twenty four hours of twenty four hours of sleep
If she's not paranoid of what she's losing
She's regretting what she's already lost
And during the days she can't remember what she had to lose in the first place
She's afraid of what might find her
So her cave gets darker
The locks get thicker
And the mailbox gets too far away to pay the bills
By the time they come to make her another homeless drug addict
The kind they show as stock footage on local news at five pm
The only way she'll be able to tell the difference between the dark damp cave she was living in
And the pitch black back alley she's sleeping in
Will be the stars
And the stars are just too pretty for this to be rock bottom