The Fix

I smoke Rock I drink Scotch I like hookers that don't talk a lot And I smile from the pain When the needle plunges through my vein I don't need Jesus to forgive me My salvation would cost more than I can pray Absolution can't be purchased No matter how many Hail Marys you say A vanquished bottle falls victim Another Soldier that I drank to death Tiny plastic bags lay full of empty While the drug swims in the blood under my flesh It would take more than an army of Christian Soldiers On a crusade to save my soul A futile quest for a vacant spirit That's been ravaged, robbed, bought and sold In twisted darkness or straightened light Seeking the venom Piercing fangs The healing cure in a snake's bite There's no trust in a junkies smile No grief in his tear Rusted words from an acid tongue Spit out and insincere Fate left no clue Just a bruise My Apocalyptic Tattoo Was I the one that made this choice Or was it the addiction Imitating my voice So the wheel turns on a flattened tire And I'm not carrying a spare Time creeps to the rhythm of the thumping The fix is a hungry rifle And it has me sighted in it's cross hairs