3 AM, I'm drunk again. My head is standing underneath my puke. So make it stop, I'm getting off.. Make it stop, I'm getting off.. Sedatives and dizzy spells.
Standin' on the corner of. Stuart and the Avenue. Rippin' up my transfer. And a photograph of you. You're a blur on my dead past and rottin' existence.
Why can't you just admit it, you've had it, you're. sick of me. You're fed up with all my bad habits, you're. sick of me. To your lies you've become so desensitized.
I've got some scattered pictures lying on my bedroom floor. Reminds me of the times we shared. Makes me wish that you were here. Cause now it seems I've forgotten my purpose in this life.