I gotta find the light
I gotta find my vices
Kill 'em with all they friends
So there's none to begin with
I wasn't the type to run
But look at how far we come shit
Cyanide In my eye
Last thing I need is assumptions
We came
For some things
I cannot
Quite explain
It's quiet
Just waiting
For good things
For good things
Bad news on good days
Hoping now for some changes
Fore the paint starts it's drying cause
You gotta find the light
You gotta kill your vices
Kill em with all their friends
So that's there's none to begin with
And if I were to stay
I'd hope it would change
So I can finally break out and escape this place