I'm scratching a picture on the wall
of a man called
I'd sell my mother and I'd steal from the blind
just
I'm getting sick of everything I see
and I hate what's
I like to feast on thoughts of anger
I like to
so precious and new, I see the innocent little eyes
I'll
hey you, I hear you got nothing to lose
well I
I cannot lose control, they'll drag me down, down the
I kill for god, and I kill for power
for propaganda,
I'm on the run and I'm moving fast
I got to
my door's locked from the inside, I can't take anymore
I'm