When your brain is so messed up it's
willing
To give you a lifetime supply
Of reasons why
You should hope to die
You know all your thoughts must be spilling
Over the sides
Of your sick mind
That whispers lies
Exept they're not soft
but the loudest cries
filling
The part of your brain
That is actually sane
Saying it's a shame
That your so weak and stupid and lame you're actualy
killing
The world around you.
And I have no choice but to
believe it.