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Ode to the druggies |
Oh, the mind of the druggie. He who roams the brinks of insanity Sloshing around in puddles of misery Smiling at the passing birds Of extinct philosophies. Ha, those fucking druggies. Walking around with nude heads In the dead of the dark Laughing at the hardened hearts Floating into store windows and fading quickly. And our eyes spin to the back of our heads. And our hearts fail in our necks. And our arms flail into your faces. And your souls are rotting like our broken teeth. But whatever that cookie says, You still know she's not half as bad As the addiction tracking your steps. Run backwards so if you trip you'll Crack your head. Those scars on your arm, they spell out Junk-like messages. You'd figure, by now, I'm fairly easy to read. Those stupid fucking druggies. Running around with their shrinking brains, Their shriveled up lives and burning spoons Just to die on your front porch with A twenty in their nose, a needle in their arm And a lulling sleepy tune in their slipping head. Yeah, us bad-ass hardcore druggies. With our nonsense bleeding eyes Imploring for something other than this sobbing story Where the ending line is another fix And where the roses we receive are placed on a granite stone. |