Cobwebs and mold.

Foodstamps are gold.

I'll give ya 50 cents for a ciggarette,

I'm thirteen years old.

Barely a teen,

smoked to much weed,

my life feels like a dream.

The numb is so serine.

See,

this is how we live,

the lost and lonely, forgotton kids.

And this is how we'll die:

low down on Earth, but our minds are high.

Walk fast,

keep pace.

Going to a friend's,

the dealer's place.

He's got two kids, both under three.

But I don't care,

cause I'm barely a teen.

10 bucks for a gram.

Smoked it out of an aluminum can.

Came home drunk,

I can barely stand.

I'm killing myself,

dying by my own hand.

See,

first it's pot,

then it's pills.

Tried shrooms once,

to see how it feels.

Hit this pipe,

hit this one too.

Soon the cops catch onto you.

How many friends did they put away?

But when they came back we'd smoke like we'd seen 'em yesterday. 

Yeah, remember when what's-his-face O.D.'d?

He was high and drunk

and took some Oxies.

I'm Mary.

These are my lost boys.

These are our pieces, our pipes our pride and our joys.

We walk, we steal

we drink we feel

nothing.

We feel nothing.