Hazy houses only contain helpless hope masked by chemical....
Broken bottles like souls remain at our feet on grimey concrete...
We smile thru deceptive instruction
to rally rebellion .....
And like we challenge ourselves we shuttle towards deadends ....
But this is as happy as we can achieve with tempory friends...
But fatigue and famine contain the way our hell ends....
If we could have just believed in upstairs cellars...
Maybe we wouldnt have eased our way down into lower levels..
But welcome mats litter the basements we exist...
While we take another hit .... I kinda remember the things i miss...