The end of the line

Powder on the table, lines drawn in the sand
how did your experiment get so out of hand?
You wanted to be cool and liked
so down the Devil's path you hiked
with no care or concern on your mind
sure you'd never leave yourself behind
but here you are, five in the morning
eyes red, swollen from your silent mourning
the tracks leading away from the heart
only one last strand before you fall apart
cutting the cord quick and precise
to place your mind back in the vise
as you scheme and plot
to earn yourself another shot
now you divide things with a card
each sniff making your decision to be hard
sure you can quit at any point
but why would you when you rule the joint?