| I found my vice
|
| I found my vice
|
| It lives in a bottle, and wants me to die
|
| I found my vice
|
| I found my vice
|
| It lives in a bottle, and wants me to die
|
| But I want to be alive!
|
| Go!
|
| God I want to call you my father
|
| I’m sick of drinking my life away
|
| I can’t remember anything
|
| This isn’t fun anymore
|
| My body’s glued to the floor
|
| When did my king start living inside a glass bottle?
|
| I’m dying, I’m done lying to myself
|
| If I’m living, it’s inside a hollow shell
|
| My stomach is bleeding
|
| But I’m still drinking
|
| A hole inside me is now more than a metaphor
|
| I guess a bottle can’t save my life
|
| I guess a bottle can’t tame my mind
|
| This is my reward, a barely beating heart
|
| But I still lie to myself, I always lie to myself
|
| My hands are in the air, and God I hope you’re there
|
| Because I can’t make it myself, I’ll never make it myself
|
| Standing up just to fall back down
|
| Screaming nonsense to hear the sound
|
| It doesn’t matter if nobody’s around
|
| I’ll hit the bottom just to feel the ground
|
| Substance therapy, never set me free
|
| Substance therapy, never set me free
|
| I guess a bottle can’t save my life
|
| I guess a bottle can’t tame my mind
|
| I guess a bottle can’t save my life
|
| I guess a bottle can’t tame my mind
|
| This is my reward, a barely beating heart
|
| But I still lie to myself, I always lie to myself
|
| My hands are in the air, and God I hope you’re there
|
| Because I can’t make it myself, I’ll never make it myself
|
| I don’t know about you, but I’m admitting now that I have a problem
|
| I have a problem
|
| I have a problem
|
| I have a problem
|
| I have a problem |