They’re supposed to make it better, right?
To fix it.
Well there’s an excuse to be used
When you have nothing better to do.
Or when you need an escape to drown out the pain
And block out the world with a blow to the brain.
Well it’s bullshit, a hoax, your life is a joke.
You come home from work and you “need a smoke.”
No you don’t.
Give it up
‘Cause sooner or later it won’t be enough,
But you won’t take a stand without your crutch
And now you’re fucked.
The substances upon which you rely
Help you lie.
Let you hide those things you deny.
You tell yourself “I’m totally fine”
And then you get high.
That’s not right.
Why not fight?
Fix it yourself;
Who cares if it takes longer?
Those drugs may be strong, but you are stronger.


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