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The Pessimist


Surrounding me in orbit
There’s a liars’ crowd
People say they’re sorry
But then they turn around
Roaring
Inside of me
It’s the urge to run away

There are no guardian angels
Protectors of my soul
No offers of salvation
May bring a light of hope
Howling
At the moon
Scream my awful pain away


So much pain
I’m a moral slave
In the bondage of my phobias and shame
I’m framed
In endless delusion
A dead-end confusion

As I sink
Into my own grief
There’s a raging impulse, crawling
Underneath
Sadistic compulsion
It’s time for some action


Sighing
In disillusionment

Struggling
Don’t wanna kill again

Restless
My eyes are seeing red
Reeking of despair
I cry out
If you stand in my way
You will regret the day you’re born


I am an artifact
Of devastation
Someone whose only sense
Was desperation
Out in the lonely streets
My spirit’s loose again
Wandering in the mist
Of my infernal quest

Come close to me
What do you see?
Doomed destiny
Not just a freak

Meet the disciple
Of hate
Born in the burial grounds
Of fate
When people see my face
They’re staring full of dread
They know I’ve got the fame
That I was raised in hell

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