let’s both play a game of truth, you can tell me lies
and i won’t know because i can’t look you in the eyes

suicide is dangerous
because i will die alone
so please just shoot me in the head and hold my hand before i go

and i hope i rot in hell
and i hope i rot in jail
and i hope my death is celebrated
and let’s go back to the hotel

i can crumble in the bathroom
drink wine that’s mixed with ****
and i wanna hear you in the bedroom
so i can remind myself that nobody will miss me.

i hope i rot in hell
i hope i rot in jail

these thoughts that i have are enough
to excuse my ****** in the court
please just say it was self defense
please make it make sense.

there was once a boy
who needed affection
thus he found one
by the ends of damnation.

I lie awake in bed at night,
I can't drift off to sleep,
The thoughts I wish would disappear,
My brain decides to keep.

She rambles on, incessantly,
Each thought is filled with pain,
And if I try to intervene,
She simply starts again.

She thinks this life seems more like hell,
It's filled with death and fear,
We form attachments, fall in love,
Then lose those we hold dear.

We slave away at work each day,
There's nothing that's my own,
And all this, just to pay the bills,
For someone else's home.

She feels like there's no point to life,
She's living, just to cry,
And when we lie in bed each night,
She prays for me to die.

The scary part in all of this,
I'm starting to agree,
My mood each day is drawn from her,
But she was born, from me.

We are the same. I'm her, she's me,
Her thoughts echo my own,
And ultimately, if she's me,
It means, I'm all alone.

In and out of Hell she went
For the Heaven she searched for
Didn't exist

Why is it,
the best of mankind’s minds all dwell
on the tortured side of hell?
For those within their high ivory towers,
far from the tortured toiling
of the boiling broth below
hold the keys to change
but fail to unlock that
which the doors of hope bestow.
Granted,
not all those that survive the swell of the Devils ****** spell
become patron Saints
through their pain,
but the very act of survival
means that their miraculous revival
can put life into those long dead
with that earned wisdom
birthed from the dungeons within their heads.
For Dantes rocky road
is for those alone
whose abodes
are bestowed
within the land of no mans code,
who bare the weight of tomorrow’s load,
until they don’t