She sat there in a daze waiting for day's end
With a cigarette in her mouth, contemplating
what she was going to do tonight
To disconnect herself from plight
Pills, heroin, or cocaine?
All of which prominently coursed through her veins
Two white horses in a line
Out of the bag at a quarter past nine
Up the nose and through the stream
Even the residue on the beam
Habit so strong she could not break it
Nor could her waifish frame take it
Just wanted to drive the pain to the side
And ended up being her last farewell ride
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