weasels luck

Fucking sucks, Broke as fuck, Smoking smokes but it's not enough, life is rough, good times are tough, mindFULl of lust, Who should I trust? Good is corrupt and evil bluffs. Weasels luck.

Pizzo's dust. Got no reasons to expect relief. Tired of pleading for some peace. Cause that's a joke. It doesn't exist. Struck by love and fucked by it. It sucks a dick. Passion is an assassin I admit. I've wore a mask for sadness, bad habits addict. Have nothing left. Don't possess fucking rest. Won't expect nothing less. Can't express fucking stress. Stuffing it, memories repressed.

Stuck in shit that gets expressed when cuttin' wrists slittin' flesh. Missin' ex. Sitting depressed.

This is why I try to stay high, wishin' I'd die, hittin' the pipe, trippin on life.

Looking for love in the form of drugs listenin to lies Missing my wife. Sitting here trying to quit crying over shit that's over. Asking myself why this bitch split and now I can't get sober.

Ignore it! Ignore her? Take one more hit for her. And breathe... face the beast, embrace relief ,

erase the grief and taste the peace. (flip da insanity) I don't need the bitch in the first place. All she ever did was sit, talk shit, and take up space. What a waste! I know many of you can relate, cursing fate, for working late, to put food on the persons plate, knowing that the persons fake, knowing that she really hates, hides the truth behind a smile, lies to you, inside she's vile, says she loves you like no other, behind your back finds a lover. Under cover fucker, FUCK HER! Deceiptful cunt just like my mother. Knew I should have chose another.