So many thoughts running through my head, when the fuck are we going to be dead? I paint this picture i call a life, which looks as promising as a neck to a knife. My soul is as black as the night, just like the result of this last final fight.
Its an unfinished passage, I cant control this madness, the same old story, different ending, its becoming a growing sadness.
I keep trying to purify this soul, all there is however is a great big fucking hole. The wind blows through me and takes me away, I am gone and forgotten by the end of the day.
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