and I can't take it anymore
too much pollution in my head
it's turned me rotten to the core
there is a map inside my pack
and it will lead me to the path
but I sold it for a ride
and now I'm stuck filling my tires
always trying to shut up
when there's nothing getting in
tensions tender enough now
to cut through like margarine
I wonder I wonder
how different I'd be
had I been born in
another century.
How simple, yet sad;
to have been born bad
yet to go on believing
there's potential for good.
Every day another mask
until I fall over from the weight
each one more manufactured
until there's nothing left to fake
I'm chock full of spiders
I'm riddled with them
can't shake the feeling
they are my brethren
have mercy on me
o bringer of rain
dilute this poison
and absolve my pain
come at me with fire
and cleanse this wound
give me your hand
release me from Doom.
this program is fixed
it's bugged by design
there's no hope encoding
what's made maligned
there's terror in the skies
and whispers in the wind
a storm is raging deep inside
best to keep it in.
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