Texty: Strung Out. Ice Burn.

I can feel the murky grip
of a cold depression comin' down
I can feel her hands around my neck
shake me to the ground
ice burn of the soul
in light in sickness and in death
infected every word and every thought
and every single breath
twisted by design
the creeps deep inside of me
feedin off this hunger, rage
and the insecurity
tempted by the rage
I feed off nothing but myself
thirsty for the things
that make me do this to myself
my pen is dripping words along
to scrape the smile off my face
every detour leads me here
to shower in this waste
you are my friend
but now your just living all over me
You watch me when I get it right
you watch me when I fall
Watch me every single day
listen to everything I say
and I swear I never wanted you
I never needed anything
from your twised fucked up lying
words asleep at the wheel.