Vice

You come alive when the lights go low,

Talkin’ fast with that slurred-down soul.

Barstool sermons, smoke in your laugh,

I sit beside you, breaking in half.

You chase the high while I chase you home,

Still sleep in shirts that smell like cologne.

You pour your love in every glass,

Say forever like it won’t collapse.

You gamble hearts like poker chips—

I bet on you and never win.

You’re my whiskey, you’re my bad bet,

My almost-love, my deep regret.

The calm I crave, the storm I ride,

That sweet destruction I can’t fight.

You’re the wound I still don’t ice,

Every wrong that feels so right.

You’re my favorite vice.

We talk ‘til morning, then you disappear,

Gone like the buzz, gone like the beer.

You say you’re lost, like that’s a plan,

But I still fold when you reach for my hand.

You don’t stay, but you don’t let go—

Guess I’m just safer than being alone.

You kiss like promises you won’t keep,

And sleep like sin, tangled up with me.

I keep forgiving what you do,

’Cause breaking me still feels like you.

You’re my whiskey, you’re my bad bet,

My twisted truth, my sweet regret.

The fire that burns and leaves me blind,

But damn, I go back every time.

You’re the thrill I never price,

Every wrong that feels so right.

You’re my favorite vice.

I light your smokes, wash your jeans,

Play house in your drunk man dreams.

You’re chasing ghosts, I play your saint—

And baby, that’s my worst mistake.

You’re my whiskey, you’re my heartache,

The hit I take when I can’t break.

You’re the chaos in my calm,

Still the name in every song.

You’re the lie I never fight,

Every wrong that feels so right.

You’re my favorite vice.

Yeah… favorite vice.

And I’d do it all twice.