“Why everything that’s ‘spose to be bad, make me feel so good?
Everything they told me not to is exactly what I would.
Man, I tried to stop man, I tried the best I could but…

You make me smile with my heart.”

“What’s your addiction?
Is it money?
Is it girls?
Is it weed?
I’ve been afflicted, by not one, not two, but all three…”

“She’s got the same thing, about me, but more, about us…”

“I see the emotion, in your eyes, that you try, not to show…

We get the closest, when you’re high, or you’re drunk, or you blowed…”

I need to leave.
I’m going to leave.
I don’t want to leave.
Fuck this.
I can’t be the only one who gives a fuck.
I’m missing out on something worth having.
Over something that doesn’t want to be had.
Not by me at least.
I hate this shit.