I Have a Problem

I found my vice
I found my vice
It lives in a bottle, and wants me to die
I found my vice
I found my vice
It lives in a bottle, and wants me to die
But I want to be alive!
Go!
God I want to call you my father
I’m sick of drinking my life away
I can’t remember anything
This isn’t fun anymore
My body’s glued to the floor
When did my king start living inside a glass bottle?
I’m dying, I’m done lying to myself
If I’m living, it’s inside a hollow shell
My stomach is bleeding
But I’m still drinking
A hole inside me is now more than a metaphor
I guess a bottle can’t save my life
I guess a bottle can’t tame my mind
This is my reward, a barely beating heart
But I still lie to myself, I always lie to myself
My hands are in the air, and God I hope you’re there
Because I can’t make it myself, I’ll never make it myself
Standing up just to fall back down
Screaming nonsense to hear the sound
It doesn’t matter if nobody’s around
I’ll hit the bottom just to feel the ground
Substance therapy, never set me free
Substance therapy, never set me free
I guess a bottle can’t save my life
I guess a bottle can’t tame my mind
I guess a bottle can’t save my life
I guess a bottle can’t tame my mind
This is my reward, a barely beating heart
But I still lie to myself, I always lie to myself
My hands are in the air, and God I hope you’re there
Because I can’t make it myself, I’ll never make it myself
I don’t know about you, but I’m admitting now that I have a problem
I have a problem
I have a problem
I have a problem
I have a problem