Three in the afternoon
Lust kicks the door
The voices of hot girls crawl inside my head
Like they’ve done a thousand times before

They promise touch I never knew
Bodies I never earned
My blood heats up, my mind shuts down
Every warning burned

I don’t want prayer, don’t say escape
Don’t tell me to be strong
I don’t want out, I don’t want clean
I want to enjoy the passion with them along

I tie myself to the screen
Until the truth can’t breathe
I hunt for something to inject
That looks like love to me

I scroll and scroll, too many faces
Too many ways to fall
I’m not choosing women anymore
I’m choosing nothing at all

I wrap the charging cable tight around my arm
Watching veins come up to breathe
I drive the syringe into the screen
Pull out the girl that wakes the need

I push her straight into my blood
Like truth I can’t refuse
I mute my conscience as it screams
And let the poison choose

Four PM. Eight PM. One AM.
The cycle tightens tight
I feed the need, I feed the lie
From daylight into night

I don’t chase pleasure anymore
I chase relief from pain
I’m not looking for desire
I’m looking for a vein

But every time it hits me less
The spark is almost gone
Their beauty doesn’t move my soul
So I search for something wrong

I need it darker, twisted now
Just to feel a trace
I keep raising the dosage
Just to feel a face

I’m never happy when it’s done
Just quieter inside
I see my wife inside my head
And cannot meet her eyes

I never touched another body
Still I crossed the line
I dirtied something meant for life
I vandalized what’s mine

I’m not alive, I’m anesthetized
By pixels and by shame
I wanted love, I wanted peace
I fed the flame

The screen goes black, the hunger stays
It always comes back then
Three in the afternoon again
Looking for a vein

No blood on my hands.
No bodies in my bed.
Just a screen —
and something dead inside my head.