Alone in my desolation. Unholy words for my desecration. Sweet pills for profanate my soul capturing the sense of being still abortions, or about.
Gastric Lavage for make me healthy again. My conscience is never been quiet, nor my brain.
A few of days after I wake up in a cold bed. I feel lost into myself, and I fel the last.
My agony runs through the wards of psychiatric hospital. They say I have mental disorders, and I ask me why. I'm not a mentally ill. I just want rest in peace. Between the alcohol fumes, and memories of my pills, I can't remember how you are on the other side. And I soffocates me the thoughts that I'm still alive. I soffocate myself with belt in a bathroom. I'm already on the floor, but the nurses coming soon. They save me another time. They save me from my last sleep. But they save only my body, 'cause I'm already dead into my Deep.
All the Dreams fade away from me. The nightmares remain. What bad Company.
I scream and laugh, I cry and laugh, like a Mad. I scream and laugh, I cry and I beat my fists on my bed.
Psychiatry is not an exact Science. My life always in and out from four white lines.
When I'll go out I'll make a deal with my self-control, and then sweet pills, and I profanate my soul. When I'll go out I'll make a deal with my self-control, and then sweet pills, and I profanate my soul.
Sweet pills for profanate my soul. Sweet pills for profanate my soul. For profanate my soul.
My agony runs through the wards of psychiatric hospital. My life always in and out from four white lines. When I'll go out I'll make a deal with my self-control. Sweet pills for profanate my soul. Sweet pills for profanate my soul.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
