Pills, sometimes we can only live off of them for a while
Before the begin to BE us.
They don't help us they are us.
They don't cure as they become us.
One pill helps you fly
And one makes you small.
And the ones that you steal from the cupboard
Can be smashed and inhaled through your nose.
And some pills make you float on little clouds of happiness and heaven,
While other pills
Keep you in a forever emblazoned memory of what hell must look like.
Most pills helps
And most pills put you through therapy.
No pill is ever tasty but swallow it down like candy.
One pill can take the pain away
But how long before the pain returns?
Vague is your memory after some good old fashioned pill-popping,
Once you'll overdose,
Do it twice, you are an addict,
Thrice is a lucky charm, you may be a step closer to death,
There is no fourth,
You usually slit your wrists before then.
Some are taken for the high
And some are taken to take away sadness.
How long are we meant to live in a world
Where our nation is built by people who
Didn't smoke their fair share of weed
And are now popping Prozac after Prozac
Hoping to regain that teenage feeling of a great high for the first time,
Littered with paranoia and the feeling of death
Surrounding your aura.
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