from the needle escapes the pain getting high is done in vain from the lows that bring us right down to those moments we want nobody around not a soul, not a friend, we just want the end our torture becomes the blue flame the most coldest part that lights the way we write the words that come to our mind usually deep inside are the thoughts that we find the memories reborn are the ones we mourn over when our life seemed full of promise, or even some hope to get by we cherish our limited good times that had promised better days & now we may as well die but even facing death head on has no rush anymore it's the same old story, to survive a lethal hit once more our bodies seem to be immortal with all we do to our insides we pop, we snort, we toke, we shoot & we smoke we do this everyday and every night and forget to sleep or eat time just passes us by and we forget that so is life we wait for that rush, the rush that brings us back up to a clearer and warmer ...