I don't think he ever had love in his life,
He was way too busy selling drugs all his life,
100.1 grams gets scaled up to bags of 4.0(zero),
Smokers and fiends think of him as a hero,
25 bags of joy distributed throughout the neighborhoods, scars on his body but still he feels everything is all good,
as long as he has a wad of cash and he gets rid of all his wood.
100 white yellow bars usually sold as pharmaceuticals, to the people with demons and mental scars they act therapeutical,
when one can't stand his past, perhaps because some of his friend didn't last, one or two bars might take away the pain, but when the alprazolam wears off the hard facts remain,
How many funerals?, the young man has lost count, who cares about the amount? All young beautiful and dead, overdose, suicide or a bullet to the head,
The young man doesn't feel very young, he thinks of the times when he begun, it was just for fun!
Now it is different, it is a burden, he spoke to the young about the pain but he doesn't think they heard him. Withdrawals from three years of powder, his pain and screams by night gets louder, to kick the habit will he be able?, feels like torture with a traction table,
aching, self pity and crying, nobody hears nobody cares, he mig as well be dying.