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sage francis - going back to rehab lyrics

[alphabetical list of drug streetnames]

i’m going there to give him cash, hear him laugh, bring him back
if i can’t tear down these walls, i’ll slip him through the crack.
if that crack ain’t big enough, i’m sick enough to get committed,
where he’s been, i ain’t been allowed to visit, and i miss him.
they put me in a submission hold, got him living in a hole.
give me the rope, pull it back, cut him slack–he’s getting old.
this cold does nothing for his bones… he’s shaking.
always put on hold, that prison phone’s always taken
they put me on a speaker but my voice is breaking up.
i’d like to think he caught bits and pieces before the gates got shut.
raise it up!
somebody cover me, i’m going in, with razor cuts, and something ugly that i know within
can’t afford the luxury of exposing everything, but i’ve been doing the best that i can. (that i can)
i take it day by day, just one step at a time, and i don’t need a sobriety test to walk the line
walking on this tightrope with arms open wide, hoping to find you live and well on the other side
so i could give you this gift as a symbol
when i felt the rope loosen, i knew i missed my window
he really did love you, you know i said “get your f-cking hand off my back”
this is my p-ssage into adulthood and i need not
smalltalk fingers fishing from a weak spot. i used to dream a lot
in search for meaning in a sleepwalk
the only time i find myself having a deep talk
but now i never sleep ’cause sleep is the cousin of death
one can never rest depending on how up the drugs get
upset, submit me to a blood test
find no trace of my words reverting back to… wait, that wasn’t what i meant
my right eye is sunrise, the left is sunset, the moonshine ain’t got me drunk yet
my tongue’s wet for the lunar eclipse, and when you’re flat broke ain’t nothing you won’t do for a fix
it’s a beautiful mix of jesus-juice on my lips
and words that are stuck so i stirred ’em up with a crucifix
and this is where i found a friend in christ
but i also found a few spikes and i decided to use them as pegs on my bike
so you’d have a place to stand when i broke you out of that vice
and now i’m going back to rehab. (going, going, back, back to rehab)
i’m going back to rehab… (going, going, back, back to rehab)
i’m going back to rehab… (going, going, back, back to rehab)
i’m going back to rehab… (going, going, back, back to rehab)
(going, going, back, back to rehab) (going, going, back, back to rehab)

i’m going back as a dead-again christian, with a medicine prescription
yeah i’m a friend of bill! let-let-let me in!
get me outta this!
hooked up to plugs and wires while the dogs sniff for a powdered substance
in a town of judgments with gl-ss-house developments
cookie-cutter republican school-book intelligence
they ain’t never considered how just one rock,
could crack the whole facade, now they call the ski slingshots
i will not meditate on the sermon
heaven’s gate is burnin’, so we self-medicate with bourbon
while their collection plate gets turned into a purse
i’ve turned into a second-rate person, but i’m not the first
this isn’t your typical cry for help
i tried to melt, but someone stopped the trickling with a +bible belt+
reminded me of tourniquets and heroin nods
now that, that right there, that’s one h-ll of a god
you can’t match magic with an addict that’s got a mapping comp-ss
in order to find a substance and matchstick that functions
a searching and fearless immoral inventory
’til every person with a story begins to bore me
i did what i had to do to get
to the place where your face wasn’t such a blurry mess
i packed all your favorite promises and words that we kept,
you weren’t hard to find, all it took was 13 steps.

and now i’m going back to rehab…
i’m going back to rehab…
i’m going back to rehab…
i’m going back to rehab… i don’t drink though
i’m going there to give him cash, hear him laugh, bring him back
if i can’t tear down these walls, i’ll slip him through the crack.
if that crack ain’t big enough, i’m sick enough to get committed,
where he’s been, i ain’t been allowed to visit, and i miss him.
put me in a submission hold, got him living in a hole.
give me the rope, pull it back, cut him slack–he’s getting old.
this bitter cold does nothing for his brittle bones–he’s shaking.
eternally put on hold, that prison phone’s always taken
put me on a speaker but my voice is breaking up.
i’d like to think he caught bits and pieces before the gates got shut.
raise it up!
somebody cover me, i’m going in, with razor cuts, and something ugly that i know within.
can’t afford the luxury of exposing everything, but i’ve been doing the best that i can.
i take it day by day, just one step at a time, and i don’t need a sobriety test to walk the line.

[continue alphabetical list of drug streetnames]

- sage francis lyrics

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