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[ The tracks on his arm ]

The tracks on his arm
Still show
His scars, though
Are white as snow

She snorted
Now her nose is
Jacked Up
Beyond compare

They are Cocaine and Heroine
The Perfect Match
She smells the sweet powder
While He goes to latch

A Belt on his lanky arm
To shoot up
More everyday
The needles are wearing thin
He needs to pay

So does she
the cocaine model
she...
is like a drugged up angel
Eyes sunk in deep.

They make
A perfect match
And they like how they are
So alike yet so different
Cocaine and Heroine chic.

~End

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