IN this insain world we call a home,
The toture and drivment that we seek
We watch those of witch we love
rub their relationships in our face
their souls escape and thier heart doth break
and their only means of life seep and seem to escape
Why do we batter our selfs with hatrid
when we only our selfs redeem from it
My heart is lone and yet it drives,
old passions are kindled
and many lie
I wish apon this nightly gleam
to kindle the love that i have learned to lose
My plans are simple and yet so complex
but this tortured soul is yet to escape
I know what i will do, evan though i shall pay
But its what i have, and nay hath a friend
proven me to not full fill it