Who controls the past controls the future
Who controls the present controls the past
My thoughts are getting wetter and wetter
I feel like a bomb a dirty outcast
I can't control my life let alone the future
Strolling around in my nights my pain
Acting like a rubbish pile vulture
Devouring what's been left there by the poisoned pen
Who controls the pen the sword
Turns people into excrements and ashes
Can anyone tell me why I feel so bored
Stumbling through words, sentences, ditches
But in the soundlessness of my dreams
I'm sticking needles in your back
Blood is black so are my lips
In black and white no one hears a scream
An like the sheet in front of me
My mind turns blank again
Afraid of my own signs, disfigured me
I'm stripping silkly, grotesque