paranoid perception- stabbing sheets in the darknI like to laugh at my endeavors, far too clever to narcnbut if you spark a conversation just be patient, at heartnmy words are hollow, if you follow find the route to the artnI'm not a Zionist , supplying Israel with the weaponsnI'm on lockdown in Gitmo Bay, screaming and crying for secondsnyou hesitated 'fore you spoke to me, you're choking, mouth is openncut your throat is what you're hoping, B, closed casket's what your folks'll seenI'm roped in like an addict, scream my name through the staticnknow I'm neurotic, but I've spotted all the bats in the atticnso let's have it and I'm attracted to pleasure, the painna reign of terror, it's a swear word just to utter my namennothing to gain, I got the feeling I'm just spinning my wheelsnso why not run some people over just to see how it feelsnto taste the blood of innocent, politicians accostednwhen they claim their innocence, it's plain to see that they've lost itnn(chorus:)na bitter insight into fighting alonenthe perseverance and adherence to a creed that you ownncan't feel the pain of the blows, the ones that fracture the bonenget right back up, no matter what and turn that soul into stonennow you knowna bitter insight into fighting alonenthe disappearance of the family and friends that you'd knownndon't see the selfless plight or all the sins you atonenthe only hope that you can leave a little blood on the thronennI take it back, I wasn't meant for this missionnI'll take a dagger to the eyes for the demise of a vision nI pissed religion and admission, capital elitismntoo late to crawl into the shell, like social un-circumcisionnperdition is personified, persisting past pessimismnprojecting prominent depictions peril-plagued premonitionnif I was given a decision, I might chose passivismnbut it's unlikely, I'd drop heights into predestined divisionsnI'm living day to day, I bear the cross of conscience and greednthe id and superego battling to tackle the neednif I take heed of the occasion then I'll scour for salariesnno longer part of the persuasion that would scowl at formalitiesnin reality (moot point) no topic there to considernthe happiness that I once felt is now dealt cold as the winternand you might snicker and laugh, act crass and try to conveynyour own belligerence, but ignorance won't get me to swaynn(chorus)nnrational thought, a victim taught to play the partndespite a grin, the fix was in for me to crack from the startnstarting up the transmission, gritting my teeth as I'm twistingnyou don't agree with my position, you won't shut up and listennthey're listening to me right now, their altruistic afflictionnsalivating ambition, wishing just to bring my submissionnsuspicion gets me no further than an exposed exhibitionnasking questions is like requesting guests of my oppositionnpermission to molest myself, I might detest me as wellnbut you won't have my full accordance 'til we're freezing in hellnso just dispel disinformation you've derived from my dictionnabstraction adds an addition to my advanced ammunitionnand friction flowing through frenetically, like frequent transmissionsnwill have me ransoming myself- response to my requisitionnto persist in impudence, cuff the slit wrist acquisitionn(here's to the throne) I'll throw the first stone at my own crucifixion