When I feel like I'm cracking and thinking of packing it in,when suicide is no more than a sin and the only thing I'm likely to win at,and the rat that I am becomes less of a man the more that I think,I sink into depression, my expression shows nothing and nothing can help me.
I see dark brooding clouds overhead,with my head in the ground,I can scream not a sound will be heard by the herds of humanity,insanity it may be,nobody sees me and so,down I go, to the rapture of the rhapsody show,where the mad moans of inmates grate on my nerves,which all serves to send me more herds of humanity,
and they trample me down even more,
when the train comes I crack and the track looks inviting,fighting is pointless,the darkness is endless,and
silence.
white noise for bad boys, and the steel lines chime as they mark out my passing,mass said at the graveyard for the man who tried so hard to put on a smile,missed by a mile though and sometimes that's the way that things go.