Lyric Poem/Song "Disease"

Walking disease on the street,
A lifeless man under your own steam,
From his nightmares,
Falling asleep,
On the street.

Searching for
That one that got away
from his cold hands,
With blisters,
from the sun.

No God will take him,
For he has naught to bequeath,
All unaided in silence,
Demons walk over him,
No more,
No less.

He is a walking disease,
Walking dead,
No life,
Will give him chance,
God spits,
Over him with tears of sin.

Nothing more, nothing less,
Only to be stress,
for nothing more than a mess.

A man full of sin,
God give no repentance
For his prayers,
To be a dead man walking,
Filled disease
 
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