Where were you while we were getting high?
In a back alley with a gold caddy. It was all too late… sadly.
The bridge between joy and pain is being picked apart by your needles and pipes.
The water beneath it lay ridden with the drug poisoned blood of those before you.
You tell yourself you’re gonna make it across one last time.
So you lay down your two wooden boards of deceit to try and cross that ruin of a bridge you so feverishly destroyed.
All the tactics and plans you employed.
Surely made you believe you could make it once more.
You step out onto the makeshift crossing and feel a nice warm breeze run across your face.
You hear the water beneath you crashing and swaying in an all too soothing way.
You just left the mainland headed for happiness bay.
You start to leave the gloomy day and begin to see a beautiful day in the month of may. Flowers blooming. Birds chirping.
All of a sudden your wooden boards are hurting.. they give out. Badly.
You die.. in the back alley.. with a needle in your arm.. puke on the floor of your gold caddy.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 12:38 PM UTC
Where were you while we were getting high?
In a back alley with a gold caddy. It was all too late… sadly.
The bridge between joy and pain is being picked apart by your needles and pipes.
The water beneath it lay ridden with the drug poisoned blood of those before you.
You tell yourself you’re gonna make it across one last time.
So you lay down your two wooden boards of deceit to try and cross that ruin of a bridge you so feverishly destroyed.
All the tactics and plans you employed.
Surely made you believe you could make it once more.
You step out onto the makeshift crossing and feel a nice warm breeze run across your face.
You hear the water beneath you crashing and swaying in an all too soothing way.
You just left the mainland headed for happiness bay.
You start to leave the gloomy day and begin to see a beautiful day in the month of may. Flowers blooming. Birds chirping.
All of a sudden your wooden boards are hurting.. they give out. Badly.
You die.. in the back alley.. with a needle in your arm.. puke on the floor of your gold caddy.
