On my couch I lie
The conversations in my mind rewind
And I cannot seem to find
The silver cylinder in my room
That I run to
When all my petals cease to bloom
The glass turns to glue
And so, I try
To pick up all the pieces of the puzzle
But I can't see right
And I
Am bound by the crushed up cans on the ground
The light blue wave of Busch Light
The silver cylinder in my room
That I walk to
When all my petals cease to bloom
The glitters turn to gloom
And yet
When I reflect upon the years gone by
I didn't even spend a week without getting high
But I guess, in retrospect
I never tried meth
Cause I don't really want to f*cking die
The silver cylinder in my room
That I crawl to
When all my petals cease to bloom
The colors lose their hue
Drink 'til I puke
That's what I'll do
That's what I'll do
That's what I'll do