Gotta keep on running high
So the love won't run dry
Money can buy me time
but sober hours are
sour like a lime
I just really need time to get you off my mind.
& I'll scrape every bit of you out of my life
But I will not touch that knife
I'm scared if I do
Death might come around with his scythe this time abound
Your voice sounds
Just like nails on a chalk board
I feel like a whore
Although it was not my fault
Nor my intent
Maybe she was heaven sent
maybe I was hell bent
