Texty: Funeral. From These Wounds. Saturn.

I came for help
Against my fears
What harm did I ever do to you
I asked for your help
You helped yourself
What harm did I ever do to you
Now I suffer from tardive dyskinesia
All my demons are gone but one
When I look in the mirror I feel ashamed
Moderate suffering replaced with pain
When I go out the children they laugh at me
Here comes the man who drowned in insanity
They assisted the demons that brought me down
Now I look and feel like a clown
So strap me into this chair
Electrocute my head
Then firmly force me down
Lobotomize my mind
Give me pills to make me well
Your reconstruction of Hell
My thoughts no longer a threat
Until the day of my death