Do you see the wreckage I walked out of
Braced myself, Fire Flame, Crash landing.
And the smoke of death has reached my flared nostrils
What is the less poisonous of two fumes?
One reeks of death, sadness and inevitability
of blood, tears and the pain of living.
The other smells of green ignorance
anaesthesia.
Take my pain.

So I, I took the path well taken, for I
didn't have the courage to look
at the broken bone jutting from my shin
Dull me, Numb me, Let me waste away in bliss
This existence is my bane, my plane crash.