days of my life

up to this day my times been spent on
getting the drugs my habit depends on
Everything in between has been just to get by
in fact i cant think clearly unless i get high
the closest people to me have had to turn away
hell i know if it was possible i wouldn't stay
who asks to spend their lives chained to misery
if i could go back i would do something differently
but then again maybe im in denial and this was meant to be
Ive been told i never lived up to my full potential
like i could of been the coldest to ever pick up a pencil
but fuck it
that fantasy has been pushed to the side
it feels like this addiction is the only thing still alive
i catch myself putting my hand to my chest just to check
then curse as if to say why the fuck aren't you dead yet
you wont be happy until all you can do is get your bed wet
which you can blame on the drugs for killing my brain cells
life isnt always as nice when you dont live in a fairytell