Leftover Air
I know I'm second-hand
Filtered out to feed ur addictions
It's bad for my health
But I can't help relapsing over the touches
They take the cigarettes to their lips
and blow the leftovers at me
And I inhale with everything I have
I'm out of breath
But when im with them
It feels like something to live on
I'm an addict for the 2nd hand
I can't avoid it as it blows through me
Around me
Hazing everything I used to be familiar with
It becomes a part of my bad habits
My new form of oxygen
Different from the one I was taught about
I'm second-hand
And I hate that my lungs are worse than u thought
It burns when I think about it
I shouldn't have gone
I promised I'd stay away
Find something to give me purpose again
But turns out it's all I'm good for
A product of what I was made of
2nd hand on what I grew up on
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