I guess this is the point where being careful is no longer an objective

When you've hurt your mother so much that you don't care if it's 4 am and the phone is dead

Where your arms are sore and your throat burns, but you can't let that feeling slip away

Where you're either indifferent to your surroundings
Or you're screaming at night for something
For death
For love
For grief
For the fear of death when you're heart just won't slow down
I guess I shouldn't have drank so much

You look like gin to me
And you look like him to me
But god you're always there and when we're away it's like I'm underwater and god darling it's so cold

Where are your hands
Where is the smell of your hair and the taste of your mouth
Where are your drugs

I want to die
I want to *******
I want to get high
I want to die
I want to die
I want to die
I want to die