Stevans
buzz in the head
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Delight fades away, 7 AM
Empty bottles and decay
We’re on the brink and the feast is not over
Headache and old pain walking round our brain
Desperately crawling, among the ghosts
Our primary hosts, fickle friends are taking over
Reason cast away, vanish and burn
Something like a bad delay
We’re on the brink may the feast be all over
Headache and real pain stalking our stoned brain
Find a place to hide from the ghosts, just on our knees now
We’ve been living in this hell of a night
Desperately crawling, among the ghosts
Our primary hosts, fickle friends have taken over