Over 16,530,895 people are on fubar.
What are you waiting for?
A staccato knock echoes through these hollow beams
nailing me on the cross for these crimes, i'm all yours
The bravado sets most up for these bottle dreams
Drowning in the snakebite as the venom seeps from my pores
shock is friction, here's a shot glass raised to addiction
A collosal failure when even the numb swallow these
No more failing the God of why i'm living now scores
A peaceful, easy feeling like the touch of a Colorado breeze
Pills thrown about like i ought to die sober, my heart implores,
God, is this fiction? You are my Author, but how can I move past contradiction?
