Vile and cold 

He acts that he’s wise 

Holding out a needle 

Planning out my demise 

He holds out his hand for me to reach 

Ridden with cracks from defeat

His words sound Holy 

Holy as Mary 

But his sins could differ 

But the guilt in his eyes 

Cold as his lies 

But warmness fills 

Softness in his eyes 

As tears fall from himself 

Sobs and Aches 

With bottles around us

Bottles filled with lies

As he drops his needle 

I drop the wine

I admit it we are both addicted to 

Addiction and Demise