No drug on earth can match that which fuels the ego as fame.
As everyone wants to be someone and only some may be.
I spark my own urges and fueled my own flame far too long maybe this runs finally over, maybe I truly don't give a **** anymore to begin with.

As for the dues I've paid you
simply couldn't understand.
Broken body parts burnout relationships sleeping in the streets the backdrop was always there I need only to open my eyes to find a source of inspiration.

My footsteps cast as my shadow does loom I would pity those who try to follow but remorse never suited me very well.

And to grasp that faint chance.
I've just a moment and sacrificed many.
If you believe I am a parody and I'm to believe your one to.
Quicksand logic will always be a bitter egos demise, and I've long since passed the mark of any to sort of return to normal .

I played the stage as I played the audience fine-tuned my craft using it only as a weapon it soon became far more than I bargained for.
I'm tired, I am broken I'm all that which you probably believe and far worse.

It isn't for the lack of imagination it simply I could give a **** less.
Do not choose to be a chameleon to blend in simply to exist.
I stand out not to be fashionable but because it simply just who I am.

My road was carved through frustration and turmoil the homicidal chaos leaves little mystery care to challenge my point?
And though I certainly embrace my demise I certainly I'm not the fool who is imprisoned to a act.

We only know what others let us see, and the rest we simply fill in the blanks.

My dues have been paid in emptiness a skill forged in hell cast to leave the page to bleed.

The footsteps left behind are my own.
Make no mistake with anything in life somebody always has to get hurt.