The morning rain makes me insane,
Your soul is broken to a plane,
The skies that fit together are clouds of veins,
The blood that flows through you is a brain.
The voices in my head are criminalizing,
But the actions are memorizing,
Love is a rose with out any pedals,
They sold you the wrong settles.
Temperament is trembling,
Your lies are being your flies.
The anger inside you is a fire box,
The box of dark secrets from your locks,
Making the strange angel wings,
The skeleton of feather livings,
The old mans trimmings,
Your boldness is for the winning,
Trying to make money upon seeing,
Your whispers that haunt you are dreaming,
Zoning out like a zombie eating,
The hunger for power is the hunger for beating.
Dreaming of screaming is believing,
Waking up to a man staring,
Angels are watching the scenes,
As you pick up and go back to your teens.