Addicted Till Death

The only thing drugs will ever get you is an early grave.

Soft whispers of people you knew,
grass wet with morning dew,
how they wish this wasn't so,
harsh is the call of the black crow,

lower in your casket you find your grave,
if only drugs hadn't made you their slave,
no life, no love, no help in sight,
such a shame you started out of spite.

With early winds to take your place,
you leave no memory in this space,
no good deals to break your fall,
broken shame you stood not tall,

hear the call that death does bring,
and he opens his skeletal wing,
invites you to a black abyss,
you face does rot with his first kiss.

Broken life and a world not kind,
someone else in your place will find,
a shortcut to a grave with every breath of smoke,
beware beware it's not a joke.