My patience is growing thin.
My hands won't stop shaking.
I try to distract myself from it.
But the screaming just won't go away.

I don't want to hurt myself anymore,
But it doesn't even hurt.
At first it's like Cloud 9,
But after awhile, it all comes crashing down.

The white powder stares at me.
Please stop looking at me!
My vision blurs as I turn away,
And the voices scream louder.

I slam my hands against the wall,
Shut the f*** already.
I close my eyes, and when I reopen them,
The white powder is in front of me.

I try to fight, but then it's up my nose.
I'm a hopeless victim of a crime.
But then the world stops spinning,
And the voices stop screaming.

I'm numb again.
I look at the mirror and through white powder bits I see a stranger.
Her face is tired and gray.
And her hair is thin and crazy.

Her eyes are sunken in brown holes,
And her figure is weak and fragile.
But then I realize, that's not a stranger, that's me.
This is what the white powder monster has turned me into.

I went from a blonde-haired, blue-eyed heartbreaker,
To a worn-down, drugged up piece of s***.
I cry giant tears of shame and disgust,
But even my tears can't wash it all away.

I throw the white powder against the wall.
I won't go with it when Cloud 9 falls.
It's nothing but a torrent of lies and deciet.
The only way out is to not let the monster beat you.
The only way out is to not let the monster beat you.
Don't let the monster beat you.