Still here boasting my emotions
Now coping while fucking dopeless
Let the dope hit, breathe in slowly
Look, maybe I'll show you hopeless
Load the ammo
Scarecrow, no shadow, bloody piano
Sold out gallows, my mind so harrow
From tragic backwards trouble

Waking up, I trip, pop off of my meds
Toes deep in narcotics
Window shopping for my father's problems
Do you have some options?
My hand numb from gripping the pistol
Trigger finger careless
My heart out to my girl
I know that loving me's a challenge

Garbage, what I'm 'em spewing
Sluggish, how I'm moving
Dope is what I'm choosing
If you ask me how I'm doing
I'll be cruising, coasting, using, dosing
Just don't overdo it, hoping I don't fucking lose it
Rope in hand, I tied the noose, it's open
Another night, blacked out
Lying on the bathroom floor
I ain't gon' back out, I ain't gonna lash out
I guarantee I'll have some more
I'll run off into the void head first
They tried to avoid said thirst, I'm tryna enjoy
Said words, things about me
Desolate, narrate the fact that I miss my own self

I feel like I've hit rock bottom and another trap door opens
And I plunge further into despair
God only gives us as much suffering as we can endure
You mean He piles on the shit to see if we'll break? Why?
To test our faith and to make us appreciate the good that we do have
Well, forgive me for saying so, Reverend, but God is a sick fuck

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Writer(s): Aristos Petrou, Scott Arceneaux