i'm sick to death of death inside my mind. cuz i'd be lying
if i told you that my life was fine
and i'd by lying if i told you that my mind was fine
so take the time to hear the honesty inside the rhyme
my lines are sometimes i feel like i just cannot feel
cuz everyday i feel like what the fuck son is this real?
does everybody wake up, walk through life having to deal?
i just don't know i just don't know i just don't know for real.
cuz i'm like rambling right now and i don't really like it
someone hand me a stick of dynamite and then ignite it
and blow my brain apart so i don't have to live to fight it
and when i'm dead make sure you leave open both of my eyelids
cuz someone told me that your eye's a window to your soul
and i think i have one so i would really like to know
who really cared about me through the rain the sun the snow
would they take a plane to show up to my funeral?
and i'm maybe i'm just over-analyzing all of this
maybe i'm the one to blame for my unhappiness
maybe i'm acting crazy, lazy, like babies letting little things phase me
somebody please shake me cuz lately i'm feeling so dazed me and I realized that they hate me in this daily battle trying to break these feelings i wish god would erase me or take these emotions and pain please cuz i'm constantly aching, and sick to death of picking up a drink to settle the shaking.

i am so dusty and dry. the wind covers my eyes
chapped lips and cold finger tips november collides
no ember to find no members alive
no sender to write back these letters have died
i'm alive inside trying desperately to die
trying to wrap my mind around the Christ suicide.
in this rugged rusty rung ladder climb
barely alive fill me warmth and light flood the canyon void and dry

i'm spittin with a limp and a broken hip spirit hear it? lyrics
from the tip of my lips sounded like a heart that's been speared
and i fear that this is the clearest appearance of what my life
will remain like for the next ten years its the shit that we're
livin im givin in slow and all the weed and pornography
are just the symptoms that show all the self medication,
been raised in a nation of lows and i'm patiently waiting for
all the debating to go away from brain swinging on the insane spiral
l paint pictures even when there's no revival
can't breathe sin in my life spreading like a viral
sickness witness as i worship all of my will
don't know how to stop hear the tick tock of the clock
rockin' on me as i feel the rot of all the transgressions
i'm pressin impressing inside me i really need God
i'm writing and finding and fighting the mightiest
plight of my life and it's fucking difficult despite just
how i high get, fighting the riot inside of me kids


fighting the riot inside of me fighting the riot inside of me

oh how do i get back to where i am supposed to be at
or was there ever an at and was there ever a map?
i feel like there was, and i just probably lost track
i'm glad i'm here right now cuz maybe the sad
and the dark and the moon and the gloom and the doom
maybe soon will galvanize my spirit to move cuz my tomb
is for just my body the consequences of life float on forever
like an atom bomb b.

so i get up and give up all the shit im trying to get rid of
so i spit up my sin lust that's fitted the botttom my tip cup
i'm rippin my stitches in a vicious delicious slit up
my wrists so His spirit will live up inside me and lift up
my britches the pictures of love in the scriptures i pin up
inside of me visions of living with Him will i give up
my sin the incisions that cause the division and rip up
the roots of the giver i shiver alone without His love