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soft spoken words of
a cruel hearted person

Mass Destruction.
Cuts, bruises, sore lips.
Love kills us all.




I look through the stoned templed glass, and what do I see;
A bad reflection, so inspitful its inhospitable;
Going day to day with low confidence leading me;
I want to burn the guilt within this broken hearted fool;
Telling me false interceptions that I should die;
I can't wonder why I was cursed with such bad absence;
Never the one to be built in the focus of all eyes;
The smell of burnt suicides are filling the air, the like extremity of addiction when you want more;

Days of days seem to be the worst;
Suicidal missions intertwine with reality;
With unfaithful composure, death seeking apon me;

Here we are, at the beginning of the end;
Feelings of unexplained sadness flows through the kiss of each angel;
The best of the best has been forgotten;
With the best of the worst, reimbursed;
Gain the power to over rule the stand with fixated thoughts of impurity reasons, why ones' mind goes insane;

Days of days seem to be the worst;
Suicidal missions intertwine with reality;
With unfaithful composure, death seeking apon me;

Time has put us here, on the pedestal of death;
Trying, to think of reasons, why, why were still here;
Looking apon the pool that has drowned out peoples' worst impressions;
With over rulings, saying small fragments of life should be easy;

Days of days seem to be the worst;
Suicidal missions intertwine with reality;
With unfaithful composure, death seeking apon me;

Life goes on, days without end;
But theres no end, without days of life going on.

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