"Winding Ridge Drive"
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Hard times have me pressed,
Against a wall.
I need help,
Will anyone answer the call?

Habitually,
Reverting to a ritual.
I don't believe in,
But who cares after all?

I need something,
And I don't care where it comes from.
It's pretty simple to ascertain,
The barrel of a gun.

Hello, Father,
Where should I begin?

Hello, Son,
Think about the end,
Before you begin,
To lose your faith.

But I can't take this anymore,
Father.

My Son, it's just one more thing to weather,
You can make it,
Don't tell yourself you can't.

But, Father,
I feel like I'm an ant,
Staring at the sun,
I'm not having fun,
Anymore,
Because of this unnamed whore.

Foolish, my Son,
This is how you're reacting?

Stop screaming!

Stop whining!

You're dreaming!

And declining!

Wake up!
Wake up!
Slow down!
Before you miss,
Your exit.

I wouldn't want to miss,
My exit,
From this horrible place called,
Reality...

Even if it kills me.