• Insanity

    Falling in a dark spiral of hate,
    I spin and tumble down the cliffs of purgatory.
    Seeing all the ones I despise,
    Watching in laughter.
    What are they trying to prove?
    Drunken with insanity,
    Is that really me?

    Greed,
    It drives us all to the end of the world for that perfect high.
    But this special high,
    This sweet,
    Sweet drug called sin,
    Is reserved for creatures that call themselves humans.

    Sins,
    The essence of hellfire itself,
    The pure drug,
    That causes these beasts to act,
    In such horrible fashions.
    They feed of this,
    As if it was the golden steak,
    That they all dream of.
    Drunken with insanity,
    Is that really me?

    Power,
    This convinces these monsters,
    To commit horrendous acts.
    Murder,
    Abuse,
    And even assist in suicide.
    These terrifying abilities,
    Send a message,
    Of fear,
    Throughout the world.
    But what really scares me,
    Is that I want to be one of them…

    You know they say,
    That in every black cloud is a silver core.
    Well explain this to me,
    If there is such a heavenly land,
    Why do millions of people die,
    In search of this paradise.

    But there is a light,
    A very faint light, I this world of black clouds.
    Those very few divine,
    And wonderful creatures,
    That call themselves people.
    These angelic beings,
    Save sinners from their future of fire and brimstone.
    Drunken with insanity,
    Is that really me?

    No, no of course not…