The cycle of a junkie

Born into a world of junkies

where they would give they last dime to a brotha named smokey

the holes in her right arm

marked the sixteen years of hatred that had grown

Born into a world of junkies never felt like a home

Because I always found myself playing chess w/ a man I had never know

sitting and wondering what’s going on

Seeing her eyes roll to the back of her head

made her seem like she was dead

i screamed out somebody help her

but nobody cared hell she didn’t care about anyone but jimmy the pipe

and the ghost she laid up with every night

Different men for different days she would anything to keep her selfish ways

born into a world of a junkies neva felt like a home

because I always found myself playing chess w/ a man I had never known

selling my gold locket filled with promises she once made

How could she feel her body with drugs where my head once laid

we were once we you the w and me the e

but we turned into three

her the crack and then me

thinking this could be me when I got older down the same

junky road like my mother had she decided my fate

with her pipe ending every night with a fight

a fight not with those but a fight with me the child of a junky

Born into a world of junkies

where they would give they last dime to a brotha named smokey

the holes in her right arm

marked the sixteen years of hatred that had grown

Born into a world of junkies never felt like a home

Because I always found myself playing chess w/ a man I had never know

This is my cycle of a junky