This
must be hell,
I
have all these voices in my head,
and
they're all so stupid,
I can't even have a conversation with one of
them.
The
city behind the couch,
it
taunts me,
wants
me?
it hates
me,
love
it,
its
alright Christopher, its alright, its alright,
what?
say to me the words to set me free,
of this little torture chamber,
the
four corners of this world,
set upon me, through these walls
They
no longer whisper, to me,
no
more whispers in my ears,
they
scream, for me,
for
my blood to be spilled,
to
watch me stuck like the pig I am,
and
laugh as they watch me bleed, out
DE face, the face of beauty,
burn
the skin off his bones,
the
acid spill
Its
dark inside this world
I hope to see some light again,
the
sun may rise,
in
the east,
but
I
only look west,
lets
turn around not once but twice,
shit,
I
still see the sunset.
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