She's lying on the bathroom floor asking herself what's life for
and someday I pray that she feels alright
and he's lying on his bedroom floor writing songs singing metaphors
like tonite might be their last nite

sometimes a walk becomes a trip and a trip becomes a fall
addicted to it all drugs and alcohol
she's all tweaked out but no one notices at all
she tries to reach out but he doesn't hear her call
cuz no one see her trouble cuz she doesn't show the struggle
she locks herself up as her tears turn to puddles
of lies and regrets of nights she forgets
like where she is and if she'll ever make it back to him

and if she had a dollar for every time he called her
she'd be sitting pretty on a mountain made of pennies
and if he had a dime for every line she was snorting
I'd bet he have a ride that he never could afford
and he's sick of the drama tired of holding on
to the hope that she's the one so he puts it in a poem
she calls he calls back he yells who's that
the phone falls dropped call and in the hall a gun goes (bang!)