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I might be dying sooner when I fight these nightly tumors/I assume it?s likely to in times in spite my dicey psyche/You know the drill, bite me. Screwdrivers to get me railed/Until I?m hammered enough to fall asleep on beds of nails/So take that hacksaw and saw this hack into a thousand pieces/Put it in your mouth and teeth it, chew it ?til it?s ground between ?em/Drain my blood and use it when you write a page/Describe the taste and tell me if I?m truly worth the ground I sleep in/It?s the semi-psychotic Henny and vodka mix/With some Remy Martin and a medley of monster flicks/I?m on a mission for the ending of all of this/I?m contradictive, full of empty intoxicants/I?m a desperate, desolate mess of skeletons/Who second guesses questions, intentions when all the messages/Mix and sections of skin are left dissecting your ribs, infected/With pestilent hexes that exorcists fix, so check it/I got two bad hands and still built this house of cards/Just an average Jack up in the Club who thinks he found a Heart/But I don?t go to clubs and don?t believe in love/Or holding hearts in grips unless this fist is into which it?s bleeding from/It?s bleeding from, it?s bleeding from, it?s bleeding from/I look into the bleeding sun and whisper with my bleeding tongue/All my poems are telling that the bleeding?s fun/Until this carcass reaches heartless, telling me the bleeding?s done/After birth, there?s just afterbirth/Letras de cancionesAnd after that?s the aftermath and consequences/?Cause after life there?s nothing that?s after death/And after death there?s no afterlife/And you?ll agree that eulogies and afterwords/Are?words, after birth from aftershocks/And afternoons of afterthoughts/So after you, I?ll follow you to Acheron/And after all, while you can?t just save yourself/From this place in Hell I?ll say farewell until the sun decays/With eyes open hoping nowhere nosy poachers dug our graves/The silence is talking, walk-in, we?ve all been in coffins/Hostage to cautious responses, solemn and lost in the nonsense/Often I follow my conscience, bottle and swallow my problems/Wallow in hollow with processes, toxic hostile menages/It?s just another itchy finger that I know expects to pull it/And I?m in the line of fire every time you?re sweating bullets/Because?(these nights) it?s getting harder now to go to (sleep tight)/When everything is haunting me?Until I take my heart and squeeze it ?til the bleeding stops/(Speak to God), but I?d rather go and (reach the stars)/So I could pluck one out the sky to navigate inside this shallow grave/If I can?t find my way back home/Know that I?m safe in these catacombs/I stand alone in the window with the casket closed/And latch to hold the stack of bones/Yeah this ship is on the path I roam, but that?s just home/ From Letras Mania