Recovering

Old habits die hard, growing bitter from trying to be broken
While these comfortable routines are smothered with affection.
Well, I choose to switch between the two
I choose whatever convinces you, that I should be allowed to
slip through the cracks and get back to the living.
These walls are unforgiving.

Send someone to check on me and take notes on my recovery

One pill will get me through the day
but I take two anyway.
When I take three pills, the song begins to play
one that won't go away.
And even though I know
one pill will get me through the day,
I take two anyway.
When I mix four pills with a drink, the song starts to play
it's in the back of my head and it's everywhere
and it's all I can think about.

It's all spinning out of control.
For one day, this thing is out of my hands.
While under severe supervision,
everything is, everything is,
but when unsuspected, addiction is under the radar.
And anything goes, so here I sit,
comatose almost.

I float between hospitals and halfway homes
between halfway living and halfway lying
and I know all the awful things that no one needs to know
I take my medicine and make them believe that I'm a better man.

One pill will get me through the day
but I take two anyway.
When I take three pills, the song begins to play
one that won't go away.
And even though I know
one pill will get me through the day,
I take two anyway.
When I mix four pills with a drink, the song starts to play
it's in the back of my head and it's everywhere
and it's all I can think about.

But still I hear the song
it's everywhere,
surrounding me and ringing in my ears.
The perfect song will call for sedatives, sacrifice, and sing-along's.

So sing along.