I got a story, a story to tell.   About a long road   back from a sory of hell   I been flying almost every night.   I been ready to burn   and I been living to die.   SO take a look, take a look in my eyes:   Cause I got no remorse for all the hate   that burns inside.   Take a look at my suicide.   Self destruction   I know the streets can be so cold   I know these streets   can make you feel so cold.   I've got this gun to my head all alone.   Another bottle of pills almoste gone;   My cigarette burns   right trough my soul.   I'm almoste home.   And I'"ve seen:   broken hearts and broken dreams   like broken bodies.   under the pale street lights tonight.   I've seen the hate and yeah;   I've heard the lies.   So I turned my back   and now I'm on the outside   I know the streets can be so cold   I'm almoste home.   Self destruction.   I'm on my way home.