Anger, anger, stress, stress.
I feel like plucking out all of my hair.
I want to kick the walls a few times,
and then have a bath in a werewolf's heart.
Whoa, it's cold- so, so cold.
Touches and ruffling, physical touches.
Cold but anger, anger is red.
A color is not melted by a feeling,
it's another type of species,
such an alien I've never seen.
Oh, but anger is the same,
the person is different.
Your anger is a fading mixture.