Watch The Clock Tick Away Your Last Breath...
I watch the world being born with one foot in the grave. I made my daring escape and now walk along the cold stones alone. Reading numbers marking memories and dreaming of my own. A cemetary of glassed hearts with nothing to encase. An empty wishing well that dares you to make every penny a reality. Where the line is so blurred that I can't even remember if last weekend was just an idea.

My mind pulsates razors and my eyes swell up with anger. So much hate. So much saddness. Every second I want to just destroy...

Any second and it can all be taken away...

I've got the world and it's still not enough. I've got shit and it's more than enough to get me by. I'll never be satisfied. I'll always be lonely. I'll always want to be alone. Perfection is my destruction. Mental freedom through emotional chaos. Anarchy. Violence.

Can you read back and tell me when everything was ok?

Just pushing and pushing. Maybe one day I'll get it right. Maybe one day she will exist. Maybe one day the smoke will clear. Maybe one day they'll remember my name. In a world where I have to die trying just to live forever.

Punk Lives. Everyone is dead. A chill up your spine when you realized you've died by suicide. You failed your own dream and anyone else living it is your worst nightmare. How embarrassing. How young they die. I will outlive those who claimed to have lived. Killing the elderly and slaughtering the youth. You're dead. Punk Lives.