Both our gods are green. I'm just a product of the whiskey and the weed.
We're all some kind of fiend and you're just a product of the hustle and
the greed. Behind your suit, you're just another junkie. Disapproval when
you pass me by, but we're all looking for the same thing… what gets us by,
with another day of our wasted lives. It's the cash and the clothes. We've
indebted our souls. You've got bills, but the brands. I've got pills in my
hands. I buy smoke just to breathe. Now, maybe you will see, we're not so
different you and me, hoping our drugs will set us free. It's just what
gets us by. Work for the weekend. I can't comprehend, because I know. I
saw the afterglow. Maybe I'm jaded? The drugs have aided in feeling like I
know for sure, that your god won't show. So, in the meantime, we've 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.

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