the taste of the dirt in my mouth gets sweeter every day
and the blood on my hands stains my soul it just wont wash away
stubborn and blighted, im just set in my ways
these methods are tried and true so just let me decay
reflections need no introduction, my therapy is self destruction,Now I'm numb to my affliction, life's always stranger than fiction,as i wake i feel this tension, a need to taste the ammunition, nothing testing my conviction, shot for shot with no restriction,
Whiskey pills, it's not for thrills, pour my cup until it spills, chug that shit til I got chills, pop a xan and pray it kills
one more for the reaper
this self destructive therapy just isnt working out for me
this self destructive therapy just isnt working out for me
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