Crackpipe

I try to be an optimist
But my glass is always bone dry so
I gotta fill it up or get high
To get by to just try and
Tip toe the tight rope
This pessimism is a disease

With depression and apathy sets in
A complete lack of all motivation
To reach any goal
So dig deeper the hole
We've dug with distractions and give in to a vice

Once it's hard to wake up
Hard to function
Hard to cope
Without a six-pack
A bag of weed
Or a bump of coke

We've lost autonomy
And depleted all our dopamine
Now the world does seem a dreary place
Devoid of any hope without a vice

We poison ourselves and don't think twice
About the consequence when the crutches feel so nice
When we put band-AIDS on our bullet wounds
We subtract good
Add vice

When you decide to stop
You can't go cold turkey
Because you're left with a brain all out of wack
Though it can be a quick easy saunter down to rock bottom
It's a long road back

There ain't no seatbelts on this wagon
With every speed bump we're launched back
To square one where we tell ourselves
That we'll do better tomorrow

We tell ourselves, promise ourselves, that we'll do better tomorrow
(I'm not sure that I'll be any better tomorrow)
We promise ourselves, lie to ourselves, that we'll do better tomorrow
(I'm not sure that I'll be any stronger tomorrow)
We tell ourselves, promise ourselves, that we'll do better tomorrow
(I'm not sure that I wanna wake up tomorrow)
But sooner those tomorrows cease to come when you live anchored to a vice

We poison ourselves and don't think twice
About the consequence when the crutches feel so nice
When we put band-aids on our bullet wounds
We subtract good
Add vice

We poison ourselves and don't think twice
About the consequence when the crutches feel so nice
When we put band-aids on our bullet wounds
We subtract good
Add vice