Morphine soaks the bedsheets
The bottle is broken
And the syringe is laying on the floor
I need a way to escape the escape
I need a way to relive the dead
I need a way to comprehend the imaginary
Help me do the impossible
Grant me one wish, God
Grant me the serenity to change what I can't
Grant me the freedom to choose my own will
Grant me a cure from the opiate haven
I have torn it out of my own being
I have ills, I have ailments
I need your help, Oh God
Thou shalt save me from my one true nemesis
Myself...
No help is coming?
No God?
No God?
Why have you forsaken me?
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