Im on a soft spin Momma I let the devil in. Mother Mary pray for me, don't let Luther win. its a substance I replace, to get some feelings to swim. in my veins to my brains I love the way he sings. I fell again but not low, I'm able to swim.
One more sip, I promise, But my sips turned into gulps And I started reaching for bottles instead of cups. One more inhalation I said, But a stick was no longer adequate, So I began buying packs again. One more slit, I begged, But now my pale canvas is dyed crimson red And my drawers, full of rusted blades. To have grown and matured all alone. To have come so far on my own, But all of that seems to have been for naught. The nights start getting sombre once more and my mind begins its repetition of collecting cynical thoughts. A night of relapse Brings upon months of regrets. And I’m pushed back to square one All over again.