1. |
Corrupted Youth
02:29
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CORRUPTED YOUTH
For years I have been a fucking threat to teachers, preachers,
and those who wear the cross around their neck.
“You sinner!, your lost and destined to fail. You got too many questions, your traveling off that trail”
Our father, king of thieves. Your holy empire tried to ruin me.
Fed me to lions and showed its vicious teeth.
But i’ll burn in hell before I become another sheep.
I wish I could rip your tongue from your mouth to silence your teachings that only breed self doubt.
You said I was lost? Well look at me now.
You can find me biting the hands off of liars and those who have “reached out.”
A broken youth. A broken mind. A destroyed home, so that I can find:
A place of comfort and a piece of mind.
A revolution on borrowed fucking time. (fuck you)
Fuck your cross. Fuck your truth.
I am the product of corrupted youth.
Fuck your god. Fuck your truth.
I am the product of wasted youth.
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2. |
Full Circle
01:59
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FULL CIRCLE
I woke up empty today because I ain’t got that much.
A few good friends, no confidence, and a family thats out of touch
and if I ever had a chance in this world of shit
I threw it away with apathy, and my clenched fucking fist.
Will someone please check my pulse? I know longer feel alive.
Another day, another dollar, another part of me dies.
Doctor save me from this fucking routine.
I’ll take another pill for numbing and mending.
I watched the working class fall to their knees.
If this is all thats left, then fucking end me.
No longer will I live my life as if it’s not mine.
I followed your ways, stepped in your graves, and got lost in your lines.
I hate the ones who are just like me, and swat the flies that sting like bees,
You fucking fed me this disease.
So lick the pen and milk the ink.
Record disgust and take another drink.
Cause another morning is another curse.
Another day breeds another verse.
Another lie, another foot in the hole
Another day I play my father’s role.
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3. |
Thick Skin
02:27
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THICK SKIN
Beneath this thick perspiring skin there is a pulse that beats through my heart.
For the weak, for the weary, and for the heartless
And despite the anger that grows and hatred I so easily show.
There is a part of me that breathes life into the idea
that everyone has a piece of love that lives inside of them.
A figure starved, begging to be fed.
A figure too often left for dead.
We live our days with instinct as guidance.
A presiding aspect that stirs inside of us.
We put to shame the gift of our minds as our hearts decline.
Open your eyes to fucking see, were the same from you to me.
A human being with a heart and passion, befriended by terror
the evil distraction.
It may not always show but from the chest it’s said,
I live to believe that we are not yet dead.
Oh god please believe we are not yet dead.
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