Your choice is gone
and you smoke weed
your love is gone
and yet i feel free
when is the wind going to rise?
when is love going to die?

laughing in on his suicidal thoughts
seeing what lie beneath his oozing yellow rots
laugh and poke games at his horrible figure
lock him away for a cold dark winter
when is he gonna leave?
when will i find my deed?

you see him starving and rotting
you see him touching and molesting
an infested milk rotted winter
his milk is shit and my milk is full of bliss
when will the violence end?
when will it all turn to blends?