The nothings rule the world within our minds
Our thoughts lost to another siren's spell
Whose drifting voice holds no respect for time
Whilst sweet smoke fills our lungs so very well
Her words spread like a plague through empty rooms
The softest touch allowed would please us now
Through chambers full of lies, despair, and doom
Her words pull like an anchor, dragging down
From deepest, darkest holes we crawl alone
To spite our fear we drink and pine away
Her words mend broken hearts and broken bones
Our vices guide our miseries astray
And though the bottle eases us to death
What sweet demise, that robs us of our breath.