Depressing the Happy

When the depression kicks in I sit and I vibe, tears come to my eyes, but I refuse to cry. So I throw on a song to describe this pain. But I can't describe shit plus this music is lame. So what do I do when I need someone, or something to turn to? I either talk to you or grab that bottle of glue. Because see I'm going to fix myself. I'm doing it for me, for my own health. My brains rotting watching trainspotting while trying to spot a train, anyone that'll get me further away from these lames. The same dames who wants you. They say they can't live without. But when they're screaming in passion it isn't your name coming from their mouth. This same recycled bullshit forcefed getting full quick I'm fucked six ways from sunday locked in on being a cruel dick. It's just the way I am I can't complain given so many chances but from the drugs I couldn't abstain. So here I sit wondering what could have been, christians telling me I'm living in nothing but sin. I need help help me. Come be the pipe. only when I smoke do I know how to truly save a life.