I try to be an optimist But my glass is always bone dry so I gotta fill it up or get high To get by to just try and Tip toe the tight rope This pessimism is a disease With depression and apathy sets in A complete lack of all motivation To reach any goal So dig deeper the hole We've dug with distractions and give in to a vice Once it's hard to wake up Hard to function Hard to cope Without a six-pack A bag of weed Or a bump of coke We've lost autonomy And depleted all our dopamine Now the world does seem a dreary place Devoid of any hope without a vice We poison ourselves and don't think twice About the consequence when the crutches feel so nice When we put band-AIDS on our bullet wounds We subtract good Add vice When you decide to stop You can't go cold turkey Because you're left with a brain all out of wack Though it can be a quick easy saunter down to rock bottom It's a long road back There ain't no seatbelts on this wagon With every speed bump we're launched back To square one where we tell ourselves That we'll do better tomorrow We tell ourselves, promise ourselves, that we'll do better tomorrow (I'm not sure that I'll be any better tomorrow) We promise ourselves, lie to ourselves, that we'll do better tomorrow (I'm not sure that I'll be any stronger tomorrow) We tell ourselves, promise ourselves, that we'll do better tomorrow (I'm not sure that I wanna wake up tomorrow) But sooner those tomorrows cease to come when you live anchored to a vice We poison ourselves and don't think twice About the consequence when the crutches feel so nice When we put band-aids on our bullet wounds We subtract good Add vice We poison ourselves and don't think twice About the consequence when the crutches feel so nice When we put band-aids on our bullet wounds We subtract good Add vice