I don't like the drugs, but the drugs like me But if I didn't do it then where would I be? I have sickening stuff running through my veins But it will all come out the day that it rains. Sleepy dust piles build up on my head. They'll still be on my face when I'm dead. But what do you care you won't be there when the shit in my head comes out. Crazy stuff, like you wouldn't believe, my friend. Hello, no, I don't think so... Crazy stuff, my friend. Bloody sweet roses and shiny, pretty things... Angels with soft voices and huge, dark wings. People with powers out of this world and memories of days when I was just a girl. But what am I saying, for I am still you... But I'll die soon inhaling this junk into my lungs. What is it, anyway? It's purple and green... and blue with polks dots that are choking me. Sometimes I think that my life is a dream, But then I wake up to my cold hard
REALITY.
Reality is where I steal lyrics from bad artists. I can't make up my mind when I've run out of time. I wander arounf through a cold, grey fog, chasing something I can't get my hands on. Listening to people I've never met, But I still base my life on the TV set. So I crawl into my dreams while I die in the night.