I'm so high on misery, can't you see?
and i'm falling on kryponite, waiting for my life to end tonight
as the pains too deep and the cuts too thick,
not enough stitches to fix this mess im in.
the needle dug a whole wehre my skin seems to heal, walking down the street but i cant see where the ******** im going,
blinded by the sun that represents my past,
nothing will free me from life at last.
like im trapped in a dream catcher,
product of your mind defied at first sight of all the lies
falling to my demise as nothing would stand before my mind shifted
Setting up the world,
tearing it down one soul at a time,
six more bricks hit the corner every second they dont think
pushing H on the streets for no tomorrow,
needles popping and morality droppin'
addicts falling, paramedics responding'
FD on scene rushing up the stairs to see whos dying,
maybe its me
maybe i've forgotten myself that day upon those stairs, sliding down as if i had no cares
watching my friends life waste away,
sniffing a line of 'stal,
the angels carrying him down, down to hell
its a life we all live,
relapse, relax, baby take it easy
so nasty cant be released from my own mind
over time we all forget,
lay back and be bigotted, as if nothing will change,
not even the change in my pocket
gotta locket with your picture in it,
says ill love you till eternity ends
nobody realizes what we have in this world
when we lose our friends its hell and we dont deny it,
dont know how to deal with the pain of a loss of the loved ones
we hold so closely our memories of tomorrow,
sink in and grab another bottle
sitting at the bar wishing the liver would burst,
an alcoholic takes another drink for a ride in his hearse
his family drowns in tears and his enemies in laughter,
but when we reach our final days whats all to come after?
they say we live our life again, to see what its like before we begin to head to the light,
so whats not to tell us we're in that now?
that the light is not another birth of a child?
what if we're all just a perfect little dream, playing out while the young ones sleep before they wake up and next minute were back in the hearse watching over our funerals before the cycle repeats.
- Title: High on Misery
- Artist: Lukerino
- Description: A close friend posted her status as, "Im High on Misery, cant you see?" And i erected this poem. being a butthole and expanding it as if she were singing a song, i made it longer and drew it out. this is the clean version
- Date: 05/03/2013
- Tags: high misery relapse funerals theories
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