I’ll keep smoking these cigarettes despite the things they say. That they don’t make me look cool and they’ll kill me someday. And I’ll keep drinking alone even though I know that being drunk and lonely won’t make this feel like home. But I’ve got a good excuse. I’ve got a few more to go. I’m six deep in another heartbreak and I’ve never been so low. The ashes of angels and devils are scattered across my lawn. Believing in something is easier than remembering it when it’s gone. I’ve got a luminescent lullaby that’s screaming through my head. I hate it, but it blankets all the truth in what she said. But I’ve got a good excuse. I’ve got a few more to go. I’m six deep in another heartbreak and I’ve never been so low. I’ve got a lame excuse for why I am this way. I’m six deep in another heartbreak with nothing left to save.