Its a black twisted place,
And a man who left no trace,
And thats why im stuck in this box.

Or a hole,
In the woods,
Bleeding from all the places,
That split upon from the hoods.
Of the cars he hit me with.

Lonely and tired,
Hungry and depressed.
My minds all messed,
And i hate him so.

I didnt see his face,
Pissed off to be in this place.
But just mad at my self.

Its my fault that i lost control,
Tried to stop the enroll
Of him into your life,
My former future wife.

But ive given up,
And actually love that man,
Who showed me pain beyond,
The devils hand,
Of wrath and destruction
Of the hurrican of endless agony
Of the living dead.

And thats why i am,
one of the living dead.
For the box is not real,
Its only in my head.
And that man was myself,
The weapon was the truth,
And the result wasnt you...
 
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