Is only getting worse by the year
Life is just an upside hill
Only the time will tell
It's misery
Drawing yourself in the anomia
Feeding the paranoia
Anhedonia, desfiguration
To be naive is sabotage intentions
It's supposed to be the most illustrious of the seasons
But the game is running by superstition
Sometimes I wish this ends
But I can't give the regret anymore a chance
I will elaborate a stance
Even if no head is land
And then you say
You came into the world with the sin
And your motor is suffering
So my defense is to become an idea
And stamp on it until I ran out of ink
I'm a crossbuster child
I got handgranades at my side
But I'm far from smart
Just questions remains
Why?