I made a pact with myself to never trust again, because lately my greatest enemies were once my closest friends. My heart is sorely damaged, because I wear it on my sleeve. My optimism lacks a pulse, and my hope is dwindling.
I've been trying to fight them for what feels like a lifetime (These murderous impulses, and desires for revenge) I thought that I could beat them, but fatigue is setting in. I've lost my cool.
I'm gambling with my life, and I know I'm gonna lose. I don't fear the repercussions of what I know will follow soon. I became reckless as I stumbled over the edge. I traded in my ticket to heaven for a slim shot at revenge. I decorated the walls with blood, and gasoline. The sound of sirens rung high, and harmonized panicked screams. I heard their final cries as I walked the streets. My adversaries now plead for their lives in the purgatory.
I told you mother f*ckers that there would be coming a day when fire would fill your rooms. When all of your heroes cease to be brave what are you gonna do? Now all of the people I have come to hate burn to death in their beds. They're crying out for something, but nothing is there. My sympathy is f*cking dead.