Devils' Group Home

I live in the devils’ group home, fiends and demons haunt me

Voices coming from the walls scream and say that they want me

The housemates are gaunt and they taunt with a radiant rage

It’s cold as an ice age and I’m locked in a cage in the center on stage

They engage a game called joint to flame where you forget your name

Nothing’s the same, everything is peace and tame

My eyes straight dilate while I’m smoking and toking

Fucking noises got me tripping as I’m sipping the Yeagar, slowly choking

The things that go bump in the night are outright provoking

White dreams and fright screams, in the distance someone is croaking

Shuddery shadows in the creaks of the halls, leaks in the walls

Waking up to night terrors when a voice calls

A bloody broken body crawls and falls in place

I’m just so spaced out, the mirror has no face

Am I tripping or am I truly insane?

My brain feels chopped up like cocaine

All these things happening to me are so inhumane

I have to restrain from spilling my vein

Too much bud in my blood to drain

I have a suicidal lifestyle to maintain

Nobody out there knows what’s going through my domain

The only one that knows my pain is Mary Jane

This is something that I simply cannot explain

Fuck all the doctors I am not depressed

I’m possessed at best

The devil’s keeping everything suppressed

I listen to what the voices suggest

Is this a test from God?

Or do I ingest what’s odd?

Not even my Ipod turns away this kind of day

I would picture music drowning out everything they say

So I self destruct everything fucked with a jay

I’d ask for higher help but it hurts too much to pray

So in the end I just obey and play

And I’ll probably play until the day that I decay

Delusions in my head and conclusions I’m dead

How can I be alive or survive with all the things that are said

 I have to commit the deeds that must be done

And while I’m at it try and have some fun

I can’t outrun a gun

Two people standing and there can only be one

The guilt and pressure weighs a ton

But in the devils’ group home you are second to none

I feel an itch when I cross a snitch

My eyes twitch when I see a bitch

I can’t escape my thoughts

I’m in no shape for plots

To continue taking shots

And get faded in spots

I can’t help but laugh when I blaze with staff

Buy Green Crack sacks on their behalf

My mouth is sour from an hour of Mec

I take rain checks and switch to train wreck

I like to get drunk when I smoke Skunk

Wear a disguise with red eyes, my thoughts shrunk

And take a chunk out of junk food

Everything is subdued

I pursued this mood and now I’m secluded

I don’t mean to be rude but I’m just highly deluded

I know that God is almighty and greatly forgiving

But will he forgive the way that I have been living

I live in the devils’ group home what a life to acquire

All that’s left is to end misery and set the house on fire