how can something so cliche, something so pathetic
something so stupid be regarded as poetic
with mum on methadone and daddy on the nod
it’s a picture full of death a syringe full of snot
you shoot up, you die. you shoot up, you die
and if your body lives, then you die inside
another paper, another shot
is the rust worth the risk, f-ck no it’s not
our generation should be smart enough to know
the syringe, the gun, your life you blow
you shoot up, you die, you shoot up, you die
a false sense of security, you shoot up you die.
and now it’s too late to change your mind.
your life is empty, you fill it up with smack
too much one night you end up on your back
you say you don’t care, you’re not afraid of dying
now you’re on a respirator and all your friends are crying
and now it’s too late to change your mind!
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