A weak mind in search of pity
His brain is erupting
A young face ready to be betrayed
Alone, depressed, internally destroyed
He never tried to fight
To discover his own life
Now he's just a toy
A toy one step from halt
It's eleven o'clock
His anxiety is great
Only 30 minutes till madness arrives
There's no mystery
Ifs all routine
He doesn't feel hunger, pain or love
Almost midnight the high arrives
The dose is strong
His anxiety is great
The needle relights the night
It's midnight
He's dead!
Dieser text wurde 93 mal gelesen.