My heart is violently choleric
It yearns for disaster
Pride has made a wretched fool of me
I am consumed and bested by my sin

I deserve death from the Son of Man
My mind is a slave to self deception
I am mocked by my own words
Blind guides follow me off of this cliff

Sorrow is my biggest fan
My will is a den of thieves
When it's all about me:
This life is cold and dreary

The bottle is always empty
I am guilty in front of the Accuser
I feel death at my doorstep
So, I turn to let them inside...