Back to biting my nails down to the quick
hand me those pills
They’re never mine, but what the hell I take them anyway
Shaky hands I try to keep them at my side
pretend I’m clean it never works
it’s not hard to see I’ve made some kind of trade
What’s the use, the real use?
The purpose of all pain?
You are what you do with it
I heard someone say
Hand me down something better
heard some kids faintly whisper
In a dream, but when I woke I didn’t wanna change
Sky was burnt orange for an hour
golden then a Summer shower
I’d have enough for my habit
if they gave out dimes for my mistakes
TV in the early morning
before the white noise blared its warning
Heard a voice say “Dial this # and it will all go away.”
1-800-something something I was tempted, but I couldn’t
desperation always calling like a bill collector she’s never fazed
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