Tom: Gm
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I try to be an optimist but my glass is always bone dry so
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I gotta fill it up or get high to get by to just try n
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Tip toe the tight rope this pessimism is a disease
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With depression and apathy sets in a complete lack
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Of all motivation to reach any goal so dig deeper
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The hole we've dug with distractions and give in to a vice
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Once its hard to wake up hard to function hard
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To cope without a 6 pack, a bag o' weed or a bump of coke
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We've lost autonomy and depleted all our dopamine now the world
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Does seem a dreary place devoid of any hope without a vice
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We poison ourselves and don't think twice
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About the consequence when the crutches feel so nice
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When we put band-aids on our bullet wounds, we subtract good add vice
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When you decide to stop ya can't go cold turkey because
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You're left with a brain all out of wack though it can
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Be a quick hazy saunter down to rock bottom it's a long road
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Back there ain't no seatbelts on this wagon with every
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Speedbump we're launched back to square one where we tell
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Ourselves that we'll do better tomorrow
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I'm not sure that I'll be any better tomorrow
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We tell ourselves promise ourselves that we'll do better tomorrow
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I'm not sure that I'll be any stronger tomorrow
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We promise ourselves to ourselves that well do better tomorrow
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I'm not sure that I wanna wake up tomorrow
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We tell ourselves promise ourselves that we'll do better tomorrow
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But sooner those tomorrows cease to come when you live anchored to a vice
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We poison ourselves and don't think twice
F D A# D
About the consequence when the crutches feel so nice
F D A# D
When we put band-aids on our bullet wounds, we subtract good add vice
