Every Vice Has A Price
Safe in my solace, walking around alone.
by Jonas Larsen
Avoiding all others, it's better on my own.
Hiding behind a wall, showing my facade.
But deep down inside, all I feel is hate.
Laughing with people, faking my part.
It's not easy living, with an empty heart.
Every day, with lying and deceit.
Smile, laugh, have fun. Repeat.
The same fucking things, year after year.
Social interactions, fear causing tear.
Everyone has a mask, faces for every situation.
You, me, your friends and every damn nation.
Acting like you're finde, hiding all the pain.
But people can't see, tears hidden by the rain.
Bottling it up, people have different ways to cope.
Pain, cocaine, alcohol. It's hard to keep hope.
Some ways are worse, but none are healthy.
Smoking, drinking, hiding and being stealthy.
Drowning your sorrows, but nothing works.
For nobody knows, what inside of you lurks.
Drinking every day, alcohol from the flask.
But nothing ever changes, just mask after mask.
But when your ways of coping, only makes it worse.
How does one escape, the evil circle of this curse?
Take some speed, smoke a lot of weed.
Cutting till you bleed, it's the distraction you need.
Heart filled with greed, douse youself with mead.
The warnings marks you read, but you'll never be freed.
Start selling drugs, to fuel your own vices.
Nothing is too expensive, set your own prices.
Convincing people you're fine, drink some more wine.
Looking for a sign while destroying your own spine.
Corrupted, defiled and secretly longing for salvation.
Disrupted, denied, can you resist the temptation?