Through this hall
you know you are the reason...
Why try to be hero if im better villian
lying to myself of saving the day...
Once upon a broken melody
I would have went to hell for thee...
She always heard the train pass
at a quarter to twelve on Sunday nights...
Hatred makes me aroused,
Thrives on darkness and pain...
Mr. Razorblade
be my friend...
Wrapped in between inept beats that squeal
Thrashing around barbarically as ears begin to...
Underneath the fading grass and leaves,
lies a poor soul taken from the world...
Sitting all alone,
In the dark so cold...
Walking through the dark
Carrying the gun...
The pain you have just makes me stronger,
From then I know you will live no longer...
The sweat of my hands is cold.
My eyes are dry, and hurt...