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Same shit, different day, same struggle
Slow motion as time slips through my knuckles
Nothing beautiful about it, no light at the tunnel
For the people that put the passion before them being comfortable
Raw, unmedicated heart no substitute
Banging on table tops, no substitute
I’m feeling better than ever man, what is up with you?
Scraping my knuckles, I’m battling with some drug abuse
I lost another friend, got another call from a sister
And I speak for the people that share that struggle too
Like they got something bruised
My only rehabilitation was the sweat, tears and blood when up in the booth…