nobody likes me but I'm used to it, they pretend I don't exist and as if I were a burden, really nobody cares for me, maybe if I die it's better, because in fact I don't need anyone, I miss reason to continue, I'm just that person that no one cares about.
Dangerous craft
Empty and scared heart,
Broken by empty promise,
Believing is an dangerous craft,
So please excuse me now,
When I say goodbye...
All I wanna do is hide, but I can't... 'couse my demons always find me no matter what...
My fucked up mind
In this decorated room, my soul murmurs a prayer that at least this time, this manufactured happiness can last more than just a nights sleep and that I can forget all of myself without coming back the next day for another glassed antidote.