First Song, Pt. 2

took the needle out of my arm about a
 year ago today,
 and every day since then i've been taking
 the needle out of my brain.
 so when i'm staring down at my hands i can't explain
 just what it is that i'm thinking of,
 except thank god that all my veins have to pump is my blood.
 and i've done you so much wrong
 i can't believe you would still talk to me.
 and i say so much bullshit
 i can't believe that anyone around me can breathe.
 i know that it's a little dramatic,
 but the word for not changing is "death."
 so i'm getting better, my friends,
 but please don't hold your breath.
 and i met a man in rehab the first time,
 an organizer in prison.
 he lived in chicago
 when the cops shot fred hampton,
 but he was just a kid back then.
 and justice doesn't flow from police guns.
 i'm reminded of that all the time.
 as long as there is a law,
 peace will be a crime.
 what the news calls economics,
 i still call it violence.
 if your god is a judge or a jailer,
 i'm still an atheist.
 but i try to have faith in the things that will happen;
 i get saved from myself when i do.
 so maybe "god" isn't the right word,
 but i believe in you.