I puff the charcoal smoke
As this tiny angel looks down from above
Wondering what the h*** I’m doing
Also thinking why am I wasting my life away
I tell her “I do it because; it kills the pain of a shattered heart and of a lonely soul.”
But she doesn’t understand because she’s never been there
Now I think about the sensation of the toxic fumes, slowly killing myself each time
Why is it so wonderful?
Why do you I feel worthy of whatever is coming my way
On the sidewalk I stand while little children watch me
Talking to their mommies telling them there goes Miss Crazy
Then the mothers agree
And say don’t do drugs because they will end up like me
Lonely and Hurt wondering if this is working
Tortured day and night
Just hoping I’m doing something right
And knowing that according to the whole world, I’m not.
I’m screwing my life up by becoming a so called “crackhead”
The world may see me as Miss Crazy but maybe I am and maybe I’m not
So what if I am
No one ever gave a d***
So why would they now?
Soon I’ll just be another body in a cemetery
Waiting for the after life