where has become this urge the reason to burn this world take no prisoners I want bags in bodies torn limb by limb with each heart kept in a jar and each dream kept so far that what you think you see in the sky is a falling star... That's the rest and the best of you begging for freedom from this madness from this pain this fucked up misery mean while we look at the source of the problem as we are staring hatefully in. the mirror with all sorts of fucked up questions But then all of a sudden it hits you had it not been you this wouldn't have happened had you not took a sip out of that bottle or smoke that bud you probably would have been sober enough not to panicked tragic if only this could all dissapear poof and just like magic all that darkness and hatred built up inside becomes reverted back to you so now Tue only question left is What the Fuck are you going to do ? it's either become the late or catch someone you envy with even so much as a shrivel of