drank a little whiskey late last night, tried to chase the pain out of my skull
but everybody knows its all this boze, that impairs my inspiration so
i smoked myself stupid then instead
couldnt find the focus for my head
to motivate my mind i value so
and stimulate these fingers just to show
g u i l t y, that boys guilty as sin

thesaurically speaking its my crutch
tryin to articulate to much
am i just in over my head
is the drewam now finally dead
i thought i had the drive to make this work
then uncertainty began, its dirty lurk, creepin up softly, on the streets tryin to overwhelm me
the whiskey found its way back in my cup
i feel the shame building in my gut
another day with yet nothing made
maybe i just havent drank enough

guilty, that boys guilty as sin

i took a minute tried to collect my thoughts
and piece together a substance driven plot
but everybody knows that i cant write
my brains slowly pacing at a trot

i wanna be profound with the words i say
differently percieve the events of a day
a day in which the world only seems to take
the simple pleasures life has passed our way

G_U_I_L_T_Y that boys guilty as sin