My cocaine's so sweet, it rots my heart,
Every encounter is close,
I get off it once and then the cravings start.
My cocaine is so fresh that I feel alive,
And the more I take, the more I strive,
My cocaine's so intense, I've lost my head,
All the lines link up scruffily,
The only way I'll quit is if I am dead.
My cocaine is so fresh that I feel alive,
But the more I take, I less I thrive.
YOU ARE READING
The Confessions of a 90's Kid
Poetry"Words are weapons: for warriors, for war heroes, for worrying teenagers and therefore for me."
