He has nothing left to own

Empty rooms are his home

In his own filth he will lie

Just to be a little bit high



He waits to feel the effect

With what he will inject

Right into his own vein

He will never feel the pain



Never hears the playing song

All his friends are now long gone

He is in darkness, there is no electricity

He is alone, feeling his own self pity



Tried to stop so many times

Made money with too many crimes

Even drugs he would steal

For the way they make him feel



This time the drugs are bad

Does not care for he has gone mad

He can feel the buzz in his head

By the morning he will be dead





(Copyright 2008   Chris Smith)