Hell - Intellectual

[Michael O'Hara]

Hell isn't a place set aflame, in fact there is no fire

It's a place of agonizingly bitter cold, where the

Blistering wind wakes you to broken skin

An environment of constant degradation with

Absolutely no hope of recovery

If you think I'm a leader, well then, follow me to Hell

I don't have the strength to lift up any longer, so

Instead I'll pull down

Dragging down this shit population that I'm a part of

I don't give a fuck about myself, my health or

My well being

Existence and misery are the same thing

I don't give a damn about a thing anymore, everything

I perceive is BLEAK

Constant harsh noise ruptures the eardrums of all

Inhabitants and spirals them down towards a state of

Delirium and disorientation

Your body will be reduced to a fine dust to be blown

Away by the slightest wind

No one will hear your screams, or be aware

Of your suffering

Wading the swamp of misery, each step breaks the

Next layer of ice as your legs are severed by the shards

Burrowing beneath the skin, never to be retrieved

My pride is what got me here

I accept my fate