| Problems of addiction, for some can be different, different people |
| But for Joline, lemme break it down like this |
| See it started when she was an only kid |
| 4 5 6 when she noticed it |
| That look of surprise up in her momma’s iris |
| When she smiled wide-eyed as that fire hit |
| And the way that it fed all the tiredness |
| Right after it starved all the wiredness |
| And the crazy shit that jumped off and issues that jumped up |
| When Joline lighted it |
| And the way she always was hiding it |
| To herself and others, denying it |
| Even after the doctors had told her to stop |
| Cuz it was robbing her soul and she’d die from it |
| But she cursed them all in their holiness |
| Called 'em frauds, practicing phoniness |
| So she’d lay in her bed, smoke filling her head |
| Curled up with her little ball of loneliness |
| Even tried to pick something new to get |
| Something that’s a little less self-destructivish |
| When she felt the seed of that need her mind got greedy |
| She gave in and nourished it |
| Told herself that she loved all the flourishes |
| And the people around her encouraged it |
| So what the heck another one to the neck |
| And got more depressed losing control of it |
| Facing that void (x2) |
| Joline’s usage got rampant and out of control |
| The fix hit was worth all the money and gold |
| The anesthetic for her problems and a singular dose |
| And without it she was doubting she would ever be whole |
| The amount she used to take would just make her feel cold |
| Wasn’t enough now, what she needed was MORE |
| It had been a long time since she’d gotten some clothes |
| And the drain on her pocketbook was starting to show |
| And her eyes in her sockets they were starting to bulge |
| All the muscle tone gone, just skin and bones |
| And she’d talk about the same old rigamarole |
| At any given time break out shaking and jonesin' |
| Strange stories about her begin to be told |
| About what she would do if she wanted the dough |
| Even her friends said she’s at an all-time low |
| Lost her job, her dog, then lost her home |
| Last time that I seen her she was all alone |
| So high that I thought she could probably have flown |
| She recited some weird strange haunting poem |
| Then laughed at a joke that was solely her own |
| I had to walk away and leave that girlie alone |
| Cuz I knew her type that same zombie clone |
| Hope she finds what she’s looking for |
| And fills that void before her mind is gone |
| Facing that void (x2) |