I think everyone has a little bit of schizophrenia.
Maybe it’s just the demons trying to whisper you out of your secrets.
There’s always a reason for the voices.
There’s always reason for the reasons.
The voices talk when my eyes go blood shot. Reality left as soon as I did.
I left when my compassion did.
I keep leaving, its called rebellion.
Can you see it?
I scream it.
I wear it.
I sing it to myself as a prayer.

My rotten prayer.

Join me?
Raise Hell with me?
Lets find my lost compassion while we’re creating yours.
I think we could find the answer to everything if we don’t question anything.

I’ll find the answers, I promise.