My intestines tangled, I'm tempted to rip them out
Throw them at my doctor, Sick with pick one,
crones or karma. Crones or karma
God I am imperfect, and it's your stubborn fault,
Your arrogant boast, your highly priced Heaven,
My stomach hanging out, Feel the tendons pop,
The relief is coming
I did this myself, I had no savior, I am responsible
Damning your prayers, secretly saving them in vain
And the story goes there's no way to stop what's
coming, Your years of drugs and carlessness say it all
From the dawn of my Measly adult existence
I fight to keep my
Head somewhat on an even scale
It's not an easy thing to accomplish,
But become strong by breaking everything,
Lay there cold like a stuck pig, I'm conscious and,
They have no idea... Slice, into numb flesh,
My eyes have to run
Lay there, strapped down, own protection
suffocating, For a moment death is emulated
Lay there strapped down death is emulated,
I did this myself, I had no savior, I am responsible...