Cut off my air
chasing my living will
no matter where I fail
I lay down like my beaten dog
cut off my hands
chasing my living hell
another day has come and shed
ignore the best that I had
I can help you
Savannah bound and downtown forgiving me
reach in my vest and unload clemency
good of the many outweighs the few
time falls like sand
I believe the world could do without
another goddamn set of helping hands
breathe like me and go without
It's culling season
Time for me to make my stand
choking on the ebb of whiskey tide X3
spitting bile upon myself
day in day out and unsatisfied
ignoring all the good that's left in me
open my arms to all disease
ripping my lids to avoid the hated sleep
the pictures that I saw of you I like them
