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de Street Sects

It all started by questioning our worth
A dream shattered by doubt
I ended one life to start another
But I couldn’t accept the ending
We’re all the same kind of murderers here
Killing our better selves, nurturing fear
Getting off on the pain
A heart full of need
A lust for death
Anaesthetized but still aware
That I might swallow my tongue
And if I get too numb to care
Then I will eat my gun
We’re all the same kind of murderers here
Cheating on suicide
Until we miss her and want her again
She may not forgive, but she gives in
A black din
Home again
I dug my grave around ten years back
I often go there to relax
Lying there the noise fades away
One of these days I'll just stay
And sleep
But not today
Not until I see the ending
There’s always at least one piece of shit
Who wants nothing more than to see you fail
Death is a release from all their resentment
But life is a wire around their throat

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