You became an addiction , a attachment , a drug , a seduction . . . Every time i use a drug , it bring back the old memory of that angel stuck in bones . . My heart has no limit but my lungs do . . . . . As the drugs hit me hard , breathing became a war with my own organs . They beg me to stop this thing . But for those sweet memories i could burn myself to death .
Nobody ever understood . . . No one catches my tears at night . . . Nobody holds me and say ”everything will be alright” . . . I was alone as the moon . . .
That’s the time when i met those smokes and small round things. . . Which melt my pain and offered me a comfort sleep . . . She become my physical necessity. . .