Phoney

Someone take this weight out of my chest. Please. 

I can't breathe today. 

I'm addicted to the sorrow.
When the buzz ends by tomorrow
there's another rush of poison running into my veins
giving me a dose of pleasure that resides by the pain. 

I'm addicted, I'm dependant. 
Looking awesome, feeling helpless. 
And I know I'm raising cain by every highway in Hell.