It's damning, you know?
Thoughts of what used to be
Memory upon memories
All the places you used to go

All of the people you thought had your back
Only to leave you a knife
Then they walked out of your life
Uncaring to whether your sight faded to black

It's damning to know
That we are born and die
Everyday again and again without reason why
While on the outside, it's never shown

Through all of it
I find some salvation
Within myself and my damnation
Through all of the *******

I say, "Well ****, since I'm here
I'll enjoy myself and I'll just raise hell
I'll give everyone some stories to tell"
... It's damning how we go through our own damnations without fear.