| Mentally he’s screaming as his life drives him insane
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| -Psycroptipath
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| Judgement reigns upon him from those higher in the chain
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| -Psycroptipath
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| Urges burning deep inside to go against the grain-Psycroptipath
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| They take it all away, those drones who control his life
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| Programmed to deaden his soul
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| Those dressed in suits taking hold
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| Masters of his life, though only nine 'til five
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| Day is just as the night, each day as it ends, it is only the start
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| Returning from that place, he again becomes alive
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| Enters a place called home, to rest his bones
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| Turns to his music device, brings it to life
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| It fills him- soothes his soul
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| Hears the blast, feels the beat, soaks in grind- cleans his mind
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| Echoes the scream, grips his seat, feels his heart-beat faster
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| He’s so warm-but unstable-his rhythms changed-a beat unleashed
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| Something’s flowing ten-fold when he does this every night
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| -Adrenaline
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| Over-active substance makes reality insane-Psycroptipath
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| Blindly he’s controlled by fluid flowing in his veins-Unnaturally
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| Mentally he’s swimming in a psychopathic dream- Psycroptipath
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| Now a summoning, seduced by a stirring, revenge is his mask
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| Feels the dark urges to kill, it excites him so
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| He will not be calm, until he sees the flow
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| Leaves his home and slips into the darkened nighttime
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| Prowls the streets intends to find some suited satans
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| His moments of insanity are still directed
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| Revenge is his motive and he knows his target
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| He sees two demons- leaving their day-nest
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| Their place for torture- paid for their pleasure
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| Controlling hundreds- gods in the daylight
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| A dark alley beckons- they answer its call
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| His breath quickens- as does his heart
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| Upon them in an instant, knife in his hand
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| Reaction so slow- rips them to shreds
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| Now their time- expired- they wasted life- dimmed lights-
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| Now they’re essentially- powerless
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| Flesh carved from the bones, insides exposed
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| Wished he’d heard them moan, he saw them bleed
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| Now he feels so mentally drained
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| Flow has stopped now revenge is attained
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| He starts stumbling in the direction of his home
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| His mind is in pieces but he still feels so complete
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| He must rest soon his body is weakening
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| Temporarily ruined by his mental state
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| As he returns home his mind is back in reality
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| And the judgement he inflicted is now coursing through his mind
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| Turns in over in his head as he does this every night
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| When he gets high from aural infliction of that pounding music
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| He knows what he does is wrong though it feels right
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| But he will never feel guilt for in his mind- he is the victim |