they always ask me what it's like to live my life in the black
can you imagine looking through the closed eyes of an insomniac?
when every day replays the dismay of an alcoholic with no cognac
the forever engulfing panic when he finds the flask empty in his backpack
it's kind of like you're locked in cyanide box without a gas mask
It's the equivalent to looking for a blind man to watch your back
or finding the broken shards of your soul in a haystack
I had to write it down so you know that I mean that
once you get a taste of the darker side of life
you won't need that knife you're dead inside
K