I might be dying sooner when i fight these nightly tumors/ I assume it?s likely to in times in spite my dicey psyche/ You know the drill, bite me. screwdrivers to get me railed/ Until i?m hammered enough to fall asleep on beds of nails/ So take that hacksaw and saw this hack into a thousand pieces/ Put it in your mouth and teeth it, chew it ?til it?s ground between ?em/ Drain my blood and use it when you write a page/ Describe the taste and tell me if i?m truly worth the ground i sleep in/ It?s the semi-psychotic henny and vodka mix/ With some remy martin and a medley of monster flicks/ I?m on a mission for the ending of all of this/ I?m contradictive, full of empty intoxicants/ I?m a desperate, desolate mess of skeletons/ Who second guesses questions, intentions when all the messages/ Mix and sections of skin are left dissecting your ribs, infected/ With pestilent hexes that exorcists fix, so check it/ I got two bad hands and still built this house of cards/ Just an average jack up in the club who thinks he found a heart/ But i don?t go to clubs and don?t believe in love/ Or holding hearts in grips unless this fist is into which it?s bleeding from/ It?s bleeding from, it?s bleeding from, it?s bleeding from/ I look into the bleeding sun and whisper with my bleeding tongue/ All my poems are telling that the bleeding?s fun/ Until this carcass reaches heartless, telling me the bleeding?s done/ After birth, there?s just afterbirth/ And after that?s the aftermath and consequences/ ?cause after life there?s nothing that?s after death/ And after death there?s no afterlife/ And you?ll agree that eulogies and afterwords/ Are?words, after birth from aftershocks/ And afternoons of afterthoughts/ So after you, i?ll follow you to acheron/ And after all, while you can?t just save yourself/ From this place in hell i?ll say farewell until the sun decays/ With eyes open hoping nowhere nosy poachers dug our graves/ The silence is talking, walk-in, we?ve all been in coffins/ Hostage to cautious responses, solemn and lost in the nonsense/ Often i follow my conscience, bottle and swallow my problems/ Wallow in hollow with processes, toxic hostile menages/ It?s just another itchy finger that i know expects to pull it/ And i?m in the line of fire every time you?re sweating bullets/ Because?(these nights) it?s getting harder now to go to (sleep tight)/ When everything is haunting me? Until i take my heart and squeeze it ?til the bleeding stops/ (speak to god), but i?d rather go and (reach the stars)/ So i could pluck one out the sky to navigate inside this shallow grave/ If i can?t find my way back home/ Know that i?m safe in these catacombs/ I stand alone in the window with the casket closed/ And latch to hold the stack of bones/ Yeah this ship is on the path i roam, but that?s just home/