7 acessos
Get yourself a razor blade.
Get yourself a video.
Drown your thoughts with J.B. Masquerade your misery.
No need to hide your attitude.
No ones here to listen.
Scrambled thoughts, now scrambled eggs.
Your nostrils caked and gustened.
Floating in your cosmic sewer of love, peace and horse manure.
You decide to hitch a ride with
Captain Kaos on pesticide.
Fill your head with empty thoughts of mistletoe and sugar plum demons.
Stoke the furnance, the flame glows brighter.
Laughing as your face grows whiter.
No need to hide your solitude.
When no one ever listens.
Building your own arsenal of hatred and misgivings.
You're fucking damaged.