How derivative, how done before
To curse the day your mother bore you
You collapse and cry and beg no more
These Earthly trials are just not for you
If you won't step into my shoes
I'll make you walk in them till you're bleeding
If you can't feel what I am feeling
I'll make you regret all you've been seeding

I'll cut you up and **** you so you'll see
just exactly what you've done to me

[did god make You without a heart? did he make You in his image? or did you take that mantle yourself?
tell me, is it blasphemy to make Yourself greater than the divine? I hate you. I think I might really hate you. I wish I was dead.]