Your six minutes of depression have past
The life you lived behind the mask was brought up at a meeting last night
Nothing left to worry about the truth sneaks up on you sometime
Your forever engagement with in your four walls is out
So i guess its fate
Past times of contradicting are done
Dispose of your ideas that were ment to cripple me
Your next 6 minutes will be the last time to take in the refreshing breate of freedom
Your secrets out
You never won that trophy
But bravo you might have just one another derogatory title
It happened once same on you but now twice shame on me
Water rolls down your window to show what your future holds
Dark wet and cold
So i guess your 6 minutes of depression are just starting
Did they ever end?
Or is it an ongoing matter?
Reaccurence?
360 seconds, baste in your misery
