I wish I could pick up a vice

To cope with these volatile moods

I guess cigarettes and coffee

Just don't kill me like you do

Every time I comb my hand through my hair

Half of it comes loose

You were looking at your feet

When I was looking for an excuse

So I'll roll up my right sleeve

And hope that I don't seize

'Cause my left arm's numb

And everything tastes like Reds

Like Reds, like Reds

Yeah, you fucked me up way more

Than anything else could have

Yeah, you are the tar in my lungs, in my veins

In my taste and on my breath

"Another day, another dose"

Has got me feeling comatose now

And nothing you could say or do

Or I don't even know is gonna cut it

Now everything taste like Reds

Now that the withdrawal has kicked in

And I'm just begging for one more hit

Everything tastes like Reds

Everything tastes like Reds