Heroin Poem by Lynn Rowe

Death is a rider on a pale horse, Honey.
Yah roll up your sleeve and yah lay down your money.
Death is a rider on a pale horse.

A cord around your arm and the needle hunts your vein.
You'll starve in your dreams with the lotus in your brain.
Death is a rider on a pale horse.

There's blood in your eyes, and your time's not free.
Selling it like that will get yah HIV.
Death is a rider on a pale horse.

Death is a rider on a pale horse, Honey.
Yah roll up your sleeve and yah lay down your money.
Ya, death is a rider on a pale horse.