I relate to something/ can't be just an oven/ where you're sick of suffering/ In the devils dungeon/ i must attack illusions/ with my true influence/ and when I break that mirror/ ill come to some conclusion/ about life and all these politics/ that once upon a time made my heart a sadomasochist/ feeling apathy/ I see no happy tress/ just a bunch of sad relief/ that is reaching its capacity/ and I don't know if I know what means/ but it's there's any truth/ I need to know if God exists beyond a shadow of proof/ cuz when I'm letting lose/ Satan's gripping tighter/got me pulling all nighters/ writers block with false idols/ as I toss bibles/into the fireplace/ and then I pull the shades/ and darken up the room/ ready for the spoon/ and the drip that's coming soon/ I'll feel till noon/ witness the pain consume/ a heart that's made to bloom/ even in the winter/ does God really have mercy on us sinners/ who never asked to be here/ didn't have a choice/ and expect us not to be numb when you hear the demons voice.