Fuck anyone who ever yelled at an addict,

because they didn't understand how badly they had it.

Fuck anyone who ever called me a friend,

then turned their back and walked away in the end.

Fuck anyone who ever held me so tight,

and told me they cared, then disappeared overnight.

Fuck it, so I've made a few mistakes in my life.

Through the things that I have done,

this is where I arrive?

Now I'm losing everyone

who made me feel so alive.

Or am I losing myself,

dying on the inside?

It's not a matter of faith.

It's not a matter of pride.

It's just a matter of the fact

that those I've trusted have lied.

And fuck it all with a curse--

a curse that tends to revert

all the anger that I feel

towards the next fucking hearse

that I know that I'll see,

but it won't be for me.

It will be for someone that I love

who’s blissful and free.

It'll be for someone that I know

just doesn't deserve it.

And it’s only ever gonna

do the world a disservice.

But I'm never gonna let it

ever happen again,

‘cause I'm equipping myself

with a paper and a pen

to let the ink serve as release

for the thoughts in my head.

We'll stare the reaper in the face,

because we’re not his just yet.

We’ve still got a lot of things to do

before we are dead.