You act like I know nothing about it, but I know enough.
I know what it has done to you, I know what it's done to us.
You're no longer a real person, more like a puppet on a string.
Every single move you make is controlled by methamphetamine.
I just can't seem to help you, can't break you away.
I've tried to cut the strings so you could walk away.
But without this attachment, your so-called support.
Your body goes limp, and collapses to the floor.
I can't lift you up, you fall right back down.
Your body is like dead weight on the ground.
I wish I could pull you to safety so you could be free.
It's so hard to watchwa b
You have become someone I don't want to know.
There's no other choice; I really have to go.
You can make it okay because you can always pretend
whatever you want when the strings lift you back up again.
Tomorrow you can't always fix your mistakes.
You have a million reasons, always an excuse.
And most of all it's precious time that you abuse.

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