I feel the motions of the dead all around me.
Talking to me, telling me what they have seen,
and where all they have been.
The wrong that was said,
the cruelty that they met.

Of the world growing better above the sheets,
and the rotting plotting that happens beneath.
The thickness of the makeup that loads the faces,
and all the wrong that happens at other places.

All this information made my heart bleed,
Felt like doing something for someone in need.
But people in need turn greedy over time,
they beg and plead like an artist performing mime.
With faint makeup of a bullet hole,
when what they really have is a tainted soul.

This realisation left a bump,
on my soft heart and my throat in a lump.
With eyes wide i now pray everyday,
oh god please make this world better in someway.

Rage, yes it fills me.
Burning August red, Rage, yes it heals me.
Once I've let it out, I can't let it back in,
You might want to step back, it's about to begin.
I've called to the rage that resides within,
I tell myself this is it, and I let go of myself where I once wrote of happiness.
The memory's are suddenly my own self destruction,
I am my own self destruction.
F
      A
              L
                      L
                              I
                                        N
                                                   G.
Faster than I can even imagine.
While my inner angels are dying,
Gods of a sort are crying,
This rage I'm filled with is never dying.
Raging for Eternity.

Tears fall like black silhouettes,
hearts call with the nerve to forget.
Love in idleness, must it be true?
I fell in this deep but ardent love with you.
Day by day I seek your call,
I seek for you but I find nothing at all.
Drowning I am in water a million miles deep,
drowning I am, right below your feet.
I write to forget you, I write to forget.
I hate to remember you. I just can't ever regret.
What we had, the things we've said...
Tossing and turning I miss your touch,
remembering you is making me ache so much.
I tried to forget your touch, I tried to forget.
But you being my informal number-one really shook me.
Leaving my heart broken in despair.
I was      S     C     A     T     T     E     R     E     D.
Under any circumstances did I ever really matter to you.
Never will I cease believing on behalf of the silhouettes in the monotonous evening.
The deceiving silhouettes in the evening.