If I'm a drug, then feel these effects,
Shifting patterns of thought,
Removing your ability to concentrate,
Concentrate.
What do you what?
What do you want from me,
Your drug of choice?

And could I satisfy you?
Make you numb to the
Bitter pain inflicted by
A choice, more than
A whim or passing fancy,
But the long-standing sting
Of one who has craved for years?

And could you ever forget
The taste I leave in your mouth,
Forgoing the calming effects of
The euphoria I leave behind your eyes.
Are hallucinations phantoms,
If you live comfortably with them
Forever? I'll be your happy phantom.

And if you choice to quit this habit,
Will you still call for me
When she falls asleep,
This craving beneath your skin?
Or do we soon forget the things
We cannot see?

I am a drug, and feel these effects:
Nostalgia for the first moment
You felt my embrace, fondness
Of the first time you spoke to
Friends about what you feel.

Flashbacks occur constantly only
Increasing the your urge, of me,
I am your drug of choice.

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