Escapism is sold in blister packs,
Capsules full of empty dreams.
I build a fantasy world from broken needles,
Bruised in worship of my
Hypodermic Jesus Christ.
Morphine emotions, eyes full of delusions,
This tablet-paved road is just the beginning
Of a start that never ends.
My heart explodes through open veins,
I'm running out of space to lose myself.
In a world of money, cold hard cash
Is equal only to cold hard drugs.
Is everything collapsing?
Or am I the only one falling apart?
The moon is a smouldering ball of white powder
That the marjiuanna weeds eclipsed.
It's getting darker...
(............I can't feel anymore..........)