Burnt Ice

He said he'd try just a little bit He didn't want to end up like them And now he blames the voices of a toothless wonder Pounding on the door to make the next score Anything for a hit, any sin to pay for it For that next bowl, he'd sell his soul Spiral to destruction, it's too late to break the spell He wants the ride to stop on the freight train straight to hell Without the truth he'll never find in a dungeon of his lies His cause of death, high speed on burnt ice Always looking at the ground, a broken, beaten man Memories of his family are calling after him He can hardly thing, hardly walk Phone keeps ringing, he can't talk With just one hit the pain would go away But he's dead if he does Shadow people follow him everywhere he goes Looking over his shoulder, the paranoia grows