Kiss me on the forhead angel
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Before I go to sleep
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I can't remember if its Thursday or December
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I've been keeping track of days by counting hangovers
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And the bottles on my floor
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My mangled memory is making me mistake misfortune for forgivness
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I don't think I'll make it out alive
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So promise me that you'll survive to bury me
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Just empty all the alcohol
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And chronicle the chemicals
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But don't forget the cigarettes
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Remember every ember
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Alright, I admit that past few months were broken and abused
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Now I'm used to the bleeding and unspoken words that kept me so confused
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Maybe we can get past these addictions
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But the bodies piling up are a whole other story
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Unless your stomach's strong enough(2x)
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Maybe we can get past these addictions
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But the bodies piling up
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So promise me that you'll survive to bury me
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Hell, maybe we can just pretend
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That this recovery wont depend on moderation
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And in the end the same routine won'e leave me dead(2x)
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Just empty all the alcohol...or baby we're dead
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Tomorrow we'll wake up in time to stop this double suicide
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Through kisses laced with cyanide
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ANd one last look through bloodshot eyes
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I guess this is what they call killing yourself in small dose(2x)
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-----------------
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The Fine Art Of Making It Out Alive
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| Boysnightout (Boys Night Out) |
