Its all clear, everybody is there,
Reality is different, almost like a rottened fruit
fermented and musty.
Things are ugly and hateful;
so are people, people you love mostly.
I wonder why the people loved have a weapon
Weapon to fuck you over, in all ways.
The weapon spits, spits in your face,
The weapon, is a python constructing around one
To kill with strength by clinging on,
clinging on even more!
The weapon has a vaccum, to lift you up by the hair!
If none of this breaks you,
Of course only if your a seasoned fighter!
The poison, the deadly one, is the support the weapon has,
In forms, of blood, and some like the ones who can take a bullet!
The support we believe is ours,
A very stupid thing to do!