Doctor please, I need a new hope. The more I run, the more the track becomes a living hell paved with regrets. I've been looking for some help. The smiles in the streets they scare. The hands on my back are f****** weight. The picks in my head, they help, I believe. Shake, Shake, Shake, Shake, The wine, The whiskey, they became discrete pills. The ice pick, a remedy. I'll never find a way to wake up and here comes the mourning. I give up, the steel is already in. Understand, you're the last chance I take to die. And I don't want to die. Who cares about real questions giving you the doubt you need? I'm tired of thinking of what I could get to drop out. I'm alone now, in the same old trap. Longing for a sand box smile to some back. I feel left behind. On and on the same glass and the bottle is down.