Bumps and bruises from the bottle getting kinda hard to cover up. Fake smiles aren’t selling, I’m left with none to muster up. Cluster of demons in my stomach, guess I’ve suffered some. Some how I recovered, thought I’d be the one the buzzard plucked. I’ve learned I can’t escape the hearse, you’ll find me doing all my worst. I been Drinking round the clock, I just do the devil’s work. I been cheifing all my reefer, meet the reaper with a smirk. Dulling all my pain, wish I fucked with poppin percs. Too far down stream... I tend to act off a script. Pick your poison, mine is joyless, burp the bottle with a bib. Seen friends turned fiends, first grab a spoon then grab a rig. Some are sleeping when they’re walking some aren’t beeping on the grid... ... It’s how we live.