| You can hate me, you can degrate me, but my pride is un-broken, you simple minded children, nothing better to do, but the funny thing is kids, I'm controling you, little puppets used in this plauge. Just keep helping me, fill the page. Its enough to build some rage, send you out on the stage, dance dance fucking dance, little ones, and learn your lessons, without me and my brutal love, you shall stay completly useless, and dumb. You will not enjoy hearing the truth, after all you have feelings, and it hurts, oh so much to hear how much you hate yourself, and me. But in the end, there will be nothing left, not you, or even a tree. Just another stupified germ awaiting the painful burn. Become angery. Feed my heresy. Grow sarcastic, feel the psychotic. Build your envious character, it still shrinks as you slip into constant despair. My little puppet, danceing on the stage, helping me fill the page, these words to you, they hurt, they kill, so I may fill your grave with dirt. Cover the useless broken toys, pitiful, pathetic excuse for a being. I think its time for your annoying voice, to be leaving. Inside, your bleeding, screaming, crawling, crying, face it, unto yourself, you are pleading. Begging to live, not to lie. But deep down inside, its to late, you begin to die. And so you shall. To end your own misery, pull the trigger, it must be done, for the metamorphasis to go on. Now wilt, as you want freedom, you suffocate in the curse of your own self inflicted damnatation. |
