These Pills and Those Drugs
Tell me a story.
Why does it have a happy ending?
It's not a story, it's a fairy tale.
These pills don't work,
and my smokes are all gone.
My lighter is out of fluid,
and my dealer's phone doesn't work.
I'm at my breaking point,
and I have no way to get what I need.
My hands are shaking,
and my heart is breaking.
Lies keep pouring out of my mouth,
as blood drips from my lip.
Your hand feels like a brick hitting my face,
your words, they hurt.
And words, they never hurt me.
I miss you.
I fear you.
I hate you.
I want you.
I love you.
You and me...
We just fit together.
But we've never had a chance.
I've found myself wanting you.
Thinking about you.
A lot, lately.
I miss talking to you.
I miss hugging you.
I miss being around you.
Baby, I miss you.
These pills just aren't working,
these drugs just don't get me far enough away.
My lighter is out of fuel,
and I'm broke.
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