What?
My mind can't function for shit.
Why am I so careless? Why am I so intoxicated?
I don't have many things. But I've always had a choice.
This story's reached the end, I've reached the end of the long and winding road.
There'll be no going back, no going back this time.
For if I put myself in reverse, I'd have to deal with losing everything.
I shouldn't be here I should be asleep, just like the rest.
Feeling empty and weak. All because lack of sleep.
Alone with my thoughts, thoughts not achievable.
My mind is poisoned. I can't even hear myself think.
Well at least there's one more thing on my mind to bring me back up.
No one can save me now. Alone with nothing but my thoughts.
Every other night I leave with nothing but a story, yet I've grown so fond of telling tales.
All gut decisions, always got stories to tell, but the difference is I'm telling the truth.
So as more and more careless nights go by, we're all kids just out for getting high.
We can't be saved.
And this is the question.
Are we really the saints or are we all just breaking the law?
