98 percent of life is pure discomfort

Laways on the lockout for

Mind altering spec-tables

I try to move

I try to hide

But my hands are tied up

No way I'll improve

Got to keep up my delirium

Got to keep m nihilistic

Way of life true

Force my hands

Through the mist

First priority

As a clench my fists

I try to breathe

I try to feel

But my hands are tied

No way I'll improve

Got to keep up my delirium

Got to keep m nihilistic

Way of life true

That's the last of me you've

Got it in your pain

Your safe surroundings

Bores me to death

I'm blessed with the

Art of self implosion

My fuse burns faster

That even before

My, fuse, burns, faster

Drenched in hypodermic

Lustfull sensation

That nowadays seldom come