Can you see the stars through your dizzy eyes?
Can you feel the high settling down?
I'm out of cough syrup
to keep us up, So realities spinning us off the crown

I must say I crave the smoke
that politely spills from my mouth
The soft cloud that always brings
a lost mind to a metaphorical south.

Give me the mushrooms,
It calls for me in my dreams,
It knows i'm begging for a taste,
A sensation that steals my soul it seems

But my vices aren't my addiction
I swear, They say they're perfectly fine
They're fine as long as I don't take to much
But I fear that I'm losing all my high time

      I'm out of money
That will keep me up
                              So I'm out of strength
Reality's coming on down
     I guess I must come down
                                                                             Or I'll never really be found