In that world of friendly faces everybody took their places.

I played the game to hide the shame along a line of fear and blame.

In scorch I've screamed amidst the burning as the world continued turning.

I faked stability through those times and made my feelings into rhymes.

They slowed this torture to shred the soul and said, in death, I'd reach my goal.

This hive of sorrows, once swarmed my head... (To make this path among the dead.)
The trauma and torment crushed into my fist... (With every bad friend I checked off my list.)
If you're poisoned too long, no one cares how you feel... (So I opened the wounds I'd been trying to heal.)

I couldn't break that digestion! I was more than a freak!
Always chained to my strength, but always bound to the weak.

If I voiced my concern they would let it all burn.
Stamp a label with God, so the fake world can turn.

Still unsure what is best, but they'll see it one way.
And I won't be some project by the end of today.

It's so much more than the drastic. (Which I hope will get old.)
It takes more to be bold. (When the world makes you cold.)
It took more than some bright lights. (It took more to see this.)
The black truth, in the end. (Cool, quiet and crisp.)