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Both our gods are green. Iâm just a product of the whiskey and the weed.
Weâre all some kind of fiend and youâre just a product of the hustle and
the greed. Behind your suit, youâre just another junkie. Disapproval when
you pass me by, but weâre all looking for the same thing⦠what gets us by,
with another day of our wasted lives. Itâs the cash and the clothes. Weâve
indebted our souls. Youâve got bills, but the brands. Iâve got pills in my
hands. I buy smoke just to breathe. Now, maybe you will see, weâre not so
different you and me, hoping our drugs will set us free. Itâs just what
gets us by. Work for the weekend. I canât comprehend, because I know. I
saw the afterglow. Maybe Iâm jaded? The drugs have aided in feeling like I
know for sure, that your god wonât show. So, in the meantime, weâve both
got to find what gets us by. We just want to end the suffering, no matter
what the price.
Buy some kind of freedom with lies.