I’ve found my new addiction,
these pretty little pills.
I line them up and sort them,
taking them by will.
Each pill holds a meaning of it’s own,
memories of the past will soon feel like home.
And I know I do not want my friends to see,
that my new addiction is killing me.
Pop a pill here, smile there.
It’s just a little cold, don’t worry, i swear.
I will fake all of the smiles, and lie about my pain,
praying and hoping I won’t be remembered in vain.
For i tried the very best i could,
yet I failed miserably as I knew I would.
But in the end don’t you see,
I am glad it’s killing me.