Give me a drink.
Give me something that'll change my mind.
I want to be pushed to the brink.
I want to be with my mind in the sky.

Make me feel something.
Anything that even remotely has the pseudonym of emotion.
Make me forge my own memories.
I no longer want to remember life and its devotion.

I want that bitter taste,
Craving the slap in the face it gives.
Pitifully watching you turn into waste,
Giving you regret after regret until you no longer live.

I don't particularly ache for it,
Nor do I really wait for it.
But the way I go without it,
Surely it's not hard to crave it one bit.

Don't give me a drink.
Give me something to look forward to.
I don't want to be pushed to the brink,
But it seems it's the only thing I know.