Old stuff

Almost eighteen
Not a care in the world
Got your room paid for
Got your plate full of food
Only thing out of control
Is your mood

Got one foot out the door
And the other in the grave
Walking down the path of life
Living life afraid

Trying to live your life
Live it to it's fullest
Yet you want to slit your throat
That idea's the coolest

So why don't you kill yourself
You mindless gutter snipe, you
Make the quick cuts, slice your tender wrists
Rid yourself of that soul, give in to pleasures of the flesh

Sell yourself to the devil
Get that purity out of here
Its blinding me
Toss that rubbage away

Set yourself free
Let your life be
Your soul is the key
To your sanity

Loose it all here
Just let it all go
Just cut your sinful throat
Let your blood flow

Die right now
Your pale face will show them
That your not a pussy
Your just a showman

Author's Notes/Comments: 


View branbran's Full Portfolio