Wrong
A sick addiction.
A moronic infatuation.
An idiotic restriction.
Grotesque laceration.
It's not safe to keep dreaming.
While fate hangs into my face, gleaming.
The tears from my eyes, streaming.
Locked within my own screaming.
An artificial love.
Sent from the Heavenly above.
Giving my faith something to shove.
It's wrong to like this.
Cutting away from this kiss.
Bleeding from the lips.
Inside these lonesome acid trips.
You're so bad and pure.
Your addiction gives you something to allure.
So loud, yet, still demure.
Do your drugs give you a cure?
Do you remember the way it used to be?
You and me.
So together and so free.
The truth can finally see.
Figment of my imagination, given to me, to fall.
To watch myself crawl.
While, you remained with with it all.
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