Stuck to the dog, pissin' out both ends
I got a hundred lethal weapons that I call my friends
Ain't a person on Earth who could take my life
I wish they would so a man could get some sleep at night
But my design is a mixture of descent and decay
I see a monster in the mirror fucking everyday
Can a man ever wash his hands of blood?
Perpetual deja vu, isn't that enough?
Peel back the layers... and see what I've become
Satisfied? Now I feel nothing
Stay away - I swear it wasn't me!
See if you can relish if you close both eyes
Every time I make an issue of it, someone dies
Carried out like a hit man, set in stone
Don't know why I even bother to be left alone
In my opinion, it's a self-serving fucked-up phase
would
wallet
stopped
stone
staring
split
stuck
sleep
swear
really
person
everyday
blaring
wrong
friends
become
serving
hundred
design
television
someone
level
hands
anybody
phase
carried
issue
enough
blank
blood
another
again
mixture
caring
weapons
picture
bother
fucked
nothing
fucking
relish
gotta
higher
pretend
every
myself
layers
lethal
could
close
looks
decay
monster
descent
matter
earth
gather
miracles
satisfied
drama
mirror
music
night
opinion
river
alone
glaring
perpetual
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