Time after time your thoughts race as if they are falling like a penny dropped from the empire state building. Live to die, die to live. Its all in your head bottle after bottle you may end up dead. But you see the words are speak are never so clear and day after day I just filter my fear. The wrath of anxiety or the hope of a drug, the nauseating righteousness of a path of a thug. Liberation may be death and death is a living element if there is an afterlife. Well fuck if you don't fuck if you do, if I am arogant than so are you. So tell me the ways in which I must live, to bleed for an honer to take for a give. To look to the truth which may be the sky, but the truth isn't real the truth is a lie. A flase accusation a dying sensation a love for the hate a hate for the kill will you have the parasite to write my will?