Curbed

Curbed

It grips your fingers tight
And kills your closest friends
Squeezing all the life
That was already slipping away.
I've got no sympathy for the guilt
Or the poison that probably killed you
After all the good done
You probably know what's best for me too.
Holding your head high
As though nothing's wrong
Teeth imbedded in my soul
Or the heel of my boot
Wear a mouthpiece sucker
A mouthpiece sucker
The thrill is gone
Your blood is spilled
Your life is gone.
You grip my fingers tight
You found your only friend
Clinging onto life
That has already left you.
So now it's dark and sober,
Where will you fade tonight?
In the street
Or in your car
Another hopeless lost cause.
Holding your head high
As though nothing's wrong
Teeth imbedded in my soul
Or the heel of my boot
Wear a mouthpiece sucker
A mouthpiece sucker
The thrill is gone
Your blood is spilled
Your life is gone.
The teeth you've planted
In the ones
The ones that you love
Are imbedded in my soul,
Or the heel of my boot.
Wear a mouthpiece sucker
Wear a mouthpiece sucker
Wear a mouthpiece sucker
Wear a mouthpiece sucker
There's nothing wrong.
There's nothing wrong.
There's nothing wrong.