A poetic expression, of artistic intentions
withered roses in a grove, bleedin skies from C sections
I'm a coward with a sword, I'm showered with my gore
depression in control, has the power, it want's more
If I bleedin I'm helpless, don't come ask me, you're selfish
Stupid people need to know, I'm not your own hell pit
I'm a normal type of person, with a normal intellect
so don't expect for me to go and help you out of your wreck
I'm not someone you can use, I do not have a phone
I live on my own, don't call me or my bones
If you come to me, and run to me, what you will see
Is an IV so quick, You'll C 4 blast on ya sleeves
better wake up before because after you die
then the wake's up with whores and the roarin' of cries
soaring in skies, killing you and torchin' ya eyes
by the time ya body hits the flames I'm scorchin' you dry