Love is a losing game
Amy would always say
Come out and chase a healthy high
Regress and all is sand now
Putting cigarettes out in the palms of our hands
When the whole world fell in the palms of our hands
You never really went away
Away
Away
Self Medicate
Self Medicate
Self Medicate
Self Medicate
Self Medicate
Self Medicate
Self Medicate
Self Medicate