Heroine addiction minus any kind of an affliction
Afterthoughts that we may all have sought
You want it all, everything
To no longer feel so Goddamn small yet grandiose
A rather morose existence right there, getting by on a wing and a prayer
The perfect morning, gloriously real surroundings, a sea no longer filled with snail traces
A voice that scares away the mice nestled up inside of your head once upon a time
Gracious to the last