My being bled from the spirit crime
When my world became my prison
A life could be seen through a prism
I have an addiction, relief of sorrow
With only a scant hope for tomorrow
My flesh keeps being torn, mourning
The turn of every day brings morning
Neither drug nor pleasure can save me
The pain is never gone, it enslaves me
I would rather enter darkest oblivion
With no hope upon the next horizon
