| Divided he stands, inhuman to the core
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| He lashes away at life 'cause he feels he deserves a little more
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| Than the ordinary every day caged angels and freaks
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| Listen in his voice when he speaks
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| Hear it like the anger in the roar of the thundering storm cloud
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| But wicked is the weather that continues to rain down upon him
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| Light watered on him in a bad way and all that that hate is doing to me
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| And now he sits in the dead of the night thinking of two ways to die
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| But he can’t get it right, he’s still alive
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| Killer by design, he took the long road home
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| But the road was closed, no way home I suppose
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| On the last hunt for the youth and the runaways
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| Killed his blood relatives and then murdered his first grades
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| Long gone, any moments when the heart is suppose to beat
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| And there’s no one home behind the walls of vacancy of his mind
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| No matter what they do to me, no matter what they say
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| I can’t do right, I always go the other way
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| They can’t reach me, I refuse to reason
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| I am lost in my wicked mind and it’s killing season
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| It’s been a wash ever since he was born
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| And so he sits at home alone
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| Just trying to weather the storm
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| Hoping that the clouds will quit taking the form
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| Of a demon or a devil or an angel free fall
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| He’s like the spawn of a million hated souls
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| In a downward spiral so out of control
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| He lost the battle of life and couldn’t have any kids with his wife
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| And so he fucked her with a butcher knife
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| There’s nothing left but he stays alive to spite
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| All the people that just wish he was down by sunlight
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| But he ain’t going nowhere until they’re coming to get him
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| So it’s better to forget and just act like you never met him
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| If the chance comes, walk on the other side of the street
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| Because he just might be the last man you ever meet
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| And if you let him he would do some of the evilest deeds
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| And let your mind wander just for a second and you can see
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| No matter what they do to me, no matter what they say
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| I can’t do right, I always go the other way
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| They can’t reach me, I refuse to reason
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| I am lost in my wicked mind and it’s killing season
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| Confused she is given this little gift of life corrupted inside
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| Trackted by every guy she bites
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| Every force in her path she feels wrong
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| But inside insinuation couldn’t be more wrong
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| She presses on through the world every day with more rage
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| And the day is like a book and it’s written across her face
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| And the anger in her voice when she’s letting the demons speak
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| In a fit with herself after words of her being weak, losing control
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| Tied to whatever little soul she retains
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| Minusing all of the portions she gave away
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| To this point everything in her life has been pointless
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| She’s well in tune with feeling of disappointments
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| She killed her true self back in the day
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| And have never been the same since that selfish rage
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| Long gone, any moments when the heart is suppose to beat
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| And there’s no one home behind the walls of vacancy of her mind
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| No matter what they do to me, no matter what they say
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| I can’t do right, I always go the other way
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| They can’t reach me, I refuse to reason
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| I am lost in my wicked mind and it’s killing season |