I'm feeling wicked, sick, and twisted
Caught up in this bullshit to be specific
Don't question me about my pain
with those judgemental eyes like you lived it
I'm fucking vicious
I tear my heart out through my throat every day
Like you eat Hershey kisses.
To put things simply:
Maybe I better be caught up in the fact
That this chaos is flowing out of me so freely;
But I'm the mean time I need you to see:
What you think I did and what happened
Can't be described by the same vocabulary.
You say,
"It was foolish, why didn't you tell?"
But let me ask you this:
Does the devil give a shit
about the silent screams you scream
if he's not with you in hell?
Shit, tell.
Ha, right. Might as well.
But maybe if you paid attention and listened
with your heart instead of your head,
I wouldn't be stuck in this cell.
My spirit grows frail.
The strength that I came in here with has dwindled...
And WHO do you want me to tell?
Like anyone in here can do anything?
Like they have the magick key?
Motherfuckers trifling.
Now explain to me,
how does telling you, or God, or
anyone out there find my release?
Because these demons are trapped in my skull.
These motherfuckers created me.
So don't go shouting and telling me,
"You should just be okay!"
I deal with this shit every day.
You can't silence my beasts
Without making me their slave.
And you think it's you that's afraid?