Now I wonder how high the flame
when I think of those of Fame
how much better shooting ice
I draw it up and roll the dice
I register a fluffy vein
excitement excuses to pinch of pain
the flow is felt from pinch
to brain
and not just one
but every vein.
the burn in my body
is a foreshadowing event,
up in flames my will is spent.
I use to desire
"nice" and "higher"
now my soul wants ice
and it better be fire.
my life is gone
full of despair
only mama prays
or even cares
of course
she only prayed twice
since I died
from the
fire ice