Darkside

I hit you,

You hit me harder.

Down in the gutter,

No room to barter.

A pack of smokes,

That's fifteen years,

Fifteen years less

That I don't have to

See your face or

Hear your jeers.

My life is ruled by

Ink and paper,

Owe the world?

No, the world owes us.

Stab me between the ribs

"Man, thanks for the favor."

Bound by tragedy,

But still afraid of the bus.

Bust;

Drugs are life.

You take them, sell them,

Line company pockets,

Doctors recommend

That you don't stay sober.

Hoping for the best; that the

Worst is over.

A state of euphoria,

While the earth stops spinning.

Welcome to dystopia,

The future is now.