Orange Island /

The Bloated Pop Star Years

I'm getting sick of drunk words. i wish they could just stay sober thoughts but my big damn mouth can't keep shut. the only thing my lips are sealed with is booze and cigarette butts because i've crawled back into the bottle again and sailed off into space. so, ground control, this is major asshole. you're steering me right into a wall where the only thing i've let go of is myself. and believe me, i look like you feel, but only when you feel like shit. i guess that's just where my life is at and thats it. i'll just crawl back into the bottle again and sail off into space. so, ground control, this is major asshole. you're steering me right into a wall of alcoholism. so maybe we should stop drinking our own body weight's worth because i'm getting fatter by the minute and it's getting too hard to keep up. it never matters if it's one too few or one too many, i'll just always crawl back into the bottle again and sail off into space. so, ground control, this is major asshole. you're steering me right into a wall of alcohol and maybe the fun is over. and maybe it's not. over and out.