Chemical

Driven to madness from the chemical,
We all fall to the depths of the floor.

And I can’t see why every sky is painted
With the tainted scene of dreams,
That rain down to hell.
And this well that we speak of
Is a hole that we creep from,
And my disease is a cheap one,
So sell me some pills.

Wrap them in gasoline and light me on fire
To scream with my daydream, and walk along the wire.

But this pain, it won’t drown
Beneath the sound of me shouting
(And your pouting isn’t helping dear)
But what do we all fear?

What hate comes from fate?
Is destiny where I’m supposed to be?
Or can I tread the path I make, forced to fake
Gestures so jesters feel like smiling?

Well I don’t feel like smiling, and all this lying to myself
Is bad for my health.

I’d rather die than cry again,
And losing another friend would be the end.

Will the questions never stop coming?

All this power of suggestion suggesting that I’m wrong,
But I try to ask why and I’m shot down by the sound of me shouting
(And your pouting isn’t helping dear)
I need to get out of here.

This life is balanced at the tip of a knife
And this power trip dips to the bottom where we sink
To think and bask in the rays of our bad days.

But what salvation do we receive from the end of the receiver?
Telling me that this fever is melting my skin,
Letting the chemicals seep in and corrupt my being.

Tell me about pain so I can laugh in vain.

Give me a lesson in suffering,
Because I was wondering what to call this illness.

And with a frown I can hear the sound of me shouting
(And your pouting isn’t helping dear)
But the wounds will never disappear.

All of this grief falls on my back.

And I break.