My thoughts are like fireflies,
spinning out of control, inside my mind.
I convinced myself of so many lies...
Even with some light, the truth is hard to find.
I'm tired of all this hitting and running.
It's like I'm in a game of whack-a-mole against me.
I keep beating and losing,
to myself, over who I want to be.
I'm fighting a world war inside my head
and, for sure, some of me will end up dead.
Which ain't, necessarily, a bad thing...
I guess it's better than nothing...
And I'm so fucking sick
of, constantly writing about some prick
called "I". He's my whole world
'cause he can't do what he's told.
It angers him to have lived,
for so long, with his soul besieged
by all sorts of inner demons, all night and day...
Never knowing what to do, think or say
'cause all those demons are in control.
He just wants them gone and to feel whole.
And he prays to the skies above
to be filled with love...
Because, what he refuses to tell
is that, everyday, he feels closer to unleashing hell.
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