as we shot-up and smoke our precious crystal meth,
we get our minds bright and clear, our hearts start
racing like a gray hound after a race, no one knew
the power it had over me, i was always paranoia
peeking out the windows moving my sack everywhere
The crashing and burning was the hardest part,i would
lie, cheat, steal, whatever it took to get my sad sack.
i was always up all night franken tearing and trying
to fix things. I had sores on my face and hands i couldn,t
hold a job, it controlled my every move, i knew i was
going to have impending illness theirs no warning label
on my sad sack, i prayed to get straight but the demon
was just to much, but i knew my treasures that lie
just beyond deaths doors. When i die their will be no
story to tell peace and love go with you.