I might be dying sooner when i fight these nightly tumors/
I assume it?s likely to in times in spite my dicey psyche/
You know the drill, bite me. screwdrivers to get me railed/
Until i?m hammered enough to fall asleep on beds of nails/
So take that hacksaw and saw this hack into a thousand pieces/
Put it in your mouth and teeth it, chew it ?til it?s ground between ?em/
Drain my blood and use it when you write a page/
Describe the taste and tell me if i?m truly worth the ground i sleep in/
It?s the semi-psychotic henny and vodka mix/
With some remy martin and a medley of monster flicks/
I?m on a mission for the ending of all of this/
I?m contradictive, full of empty intoxicants/
I?m a desperate, desolate mess of skeletons/
Who second guesses questions, intentions when all the messages/
Mix and sections of skin are left dissecting your ribs, infected/
With pestilent hexes that exorcists fix, so check it/
I got two bad hands and still built this house of cards/
Just an average jack up in the club who thinks he found a heart/
But i don?t go to clubs and don?t believe in love/
Or holding hearts in grips unless this fist is into which it?s bleeding from/
It?s bleeding from, it?s bleeding from, it?s bleeding from/
I look into the bleeding sun and whisper with my bleeding tongue/
All my poems are telling that the bleeding?s fun/
Until this carcass reaches heartless, telling me the bleeding?s done/
After birth, there?s just afterbirth/
And after that?s the aftermath and consequences/
?cause after life there?s nothing that?s after death/
And after death there?s no afterlife/
And you?ll agree that eulogies and afterwords/
Are?words, after birth from aftershocks/
And afternoons of afterthoughts/
So after you, i?ll follow you to acheron/
And after all, while you can?t just save yourself/
From this place in hell i?ll say farewell until the sun decays/
With eyes open hoping nowhere nosy poachers dug our graves/
The silence is talking, walk-in, we?ve all been in coffins/
Hostage to cautious responses, solemn and lost in the nonsense/
Often i follow my conscience, bottle and swallow my problems/
Wallow in hollow with processes, toxic hostile menages/
It?s just another itchy finger that i know expects to pull it/
And i?m in the line of fire every time you?re sweating bullets/
Because?(these nights) it?s getting harder now to go to (sleep tight)/
When everything is haunting me?
Until i take my heart and squeeze it ?til the bleeding stops/
(speak to god), but i?d rather go and (reach the stars)/
So i could pluck one out the sky to navigate inside this shallow grave/
If i can?t find my way back home/
Know that i?m safe in these catacombs/
I stand alone in the window with the casket closed/
And latch to hold the stack of bones/
Yeah this ship is on the path i roam, but that?s just home/