Bound to the tendrils of a condemned society of maimed sheep,
My blood clots at the thought of wasting my energy
On a conformed nation, where love could only creep,
Fearful of its own rage, pills,
Bitches and cheap thrills
Restless and wary I reluctantly disguise myself
To walk like the rest, looking so sorry and depressed
But beneath this veil of eyes so deep and blue
Is a flame that burns cold, preying on the few,
That I see a challenge that I see worth my time
So you see I’m starving, and at the peak of my prime
Like shooting at fish in a barrel, and having the taste for red
It’ be a bit more fun if you all weren’t already dead.