Savage Alive

Sick to death,

Or half-life at least.

Hold your breath,

To not catch the disease.

Cut and bled,

And the wound won’t heal.

If the sickness doesn’t get you,

The madness will.

 

Sight to see,

All the shit you take.

Your misery,

Too strong, too great.

Come to pass,

From the guilt you feed.

The thought that you give it,

Is all that it needs.