Time feels like two steps forward and seven steps back.
Hope and Faith decided it was time to pack.
So, I smoke another bowl to drown it all out.
That gut slaughtering emotion, of true
self-doubt.
Wondering if any choice you make is right.
Pondering, if there's anymore reason to fight.
Just another smoke after a ****,
Forcefully laughing at another joke.
But now I can't even speak.
Time's a great teacher, but it's future is bleak.
Those time you feel, helplessly set back.