Open Your Eyes.
Open them up, rub out all the crusts and look around.
Don’t let the world go on
For one more minute,
Let go of all your inhibitions
And look that six-year-old
Blue-eyed-Blonde
In the face
Her pretty, round face
And just tell her you love her.
Make all those promises your bound to break
In your cocaine stupor,
Veins black with your
Secret Sin.
I’m Not high!
Is your proclamation
But your red eyes
Tell me something different.
You don’t owe me the Truth
Or anyone else, But
You Owe Everything
To that Crushed Angel.
Wings Snapped.
And all the HeartAche that should be
Unknown
To an Innocent child,
Borne inside.
Familiar with suffering
But all she wants to know is,
“If she loves me,
Why won’t mommy come home?”
How could she ever understand
The Shackles of Addiction?
The bonds of the Life
Her mother Lived
Parties, Boyfriends, Drugs, Alcohol
Sex.
What’s Not to Love?
Family.
The only ones left, the Only Ones still holding out
For her
When the Party is Over.
But the Weed
Paints her a
Fantasy
And she dances into the Night.
Away from her
Last Chance
To live, her
Last Chance
To fight.
And then,
She’s found herself behind Thick, Iron Bars,
The Music is Over,
Friends Clear Out and Fast.
She’s still got Family
The Family she didn’t care for.
But Still,
We Love her.
In a way,
We will always Hate her.
Always Looking Over her Shoulder
Struggling everyday
To escape her Dirty Habit,
To Keep her Eyes
Open.
Open them up, rub out all the crusts and look around.
Don’t let the world go on
For one more minute,
Let go of all your inhibitions
And look that six-year-old
Blue-eyed-Blonde
In the face
Her pretty, round face
And just tell her you love her.
Make all those promises your bound to break
In your cocaine stupor,
Veins black with your
Secret Sin.
I’m Not high!
Is your proclamation
But your red eyes
Tell me something different.
You don’t owe me the Truth
Or anyone else, But
You Owe Everything
To that Crushed Angel.
Wings Snapped.
And all the HeartAche that should be
Unknown
To an Innocent child,
Borne inside.
Familiar with suffering
But all she wants to know is,
“If she loves me,
Why won’t mommy come home?”
How could she ever understand
The Shackles of Addiction?
The bonds of the Life
Her mother Lived
Parties, Boyfriends, Drugs, Alcohol
Sex.
What’s Not to Love?
Family.
The only ones left, the Only Ones still holding out
For her
When the Party is Over.
But the Weed
Paints her a
Fantasy
And she dances into the Night.
Away from her
Last Chance
To live, her
Last Chance
To fight.
And then,
She’s found herself behind Thick, Iron Bars,
The Music is Over,
Friends Clear Out and Fast.
She’s still got Family
The Family she didn’t care for.
But Still,
We Love her.
In a way,
We will always Hate her.
Always Looking Over her Shoulder
Struggling everyday
To escape her Dirty Habit,
To Keep her Eyes
Open.
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