And It has gotten to the $#&@ing point, where the nights turn into days and what was meant to stay a phrase has turned into three hundred and sixty five $#&@ing days, Where I can't see straight, Where another day sober is another day blazed, Reliant on the liquid that fools my brain, And the smoke that I need to sooth my pain. I swear that this life is just a game, that one day I will wake up and this will all be a dream, This life is far to plain, and I'm becoming immune to the drugs and the pain, 3 years later and I'm stuck in the same game, sitting on my crown that I built with fame, I am stuck in a loop hole, something I never wanted to be stuck in again, my head pulls me down, start from scratch no $#&@ing around I refuse to live my life on the ground, I step up and wipe of all the pain from my crown, I have become a better man, I have built this house with hearts and hands, As better times have moved on, and we have left the rest behind.