Dreams are a fantasy in which we are all suffering

Filled with disillusioned visions and false hopes

Pouring sweet, fantasized lies through gullible ears

Masking blind eyes with glittering jewels of lost paradise

And then – Oh God, is it really a sin to die? –

Tell me more of your sick, twisted lies.

Drinking up the improbable wants

Is only an ugsome faith in that we won’t all drown

Swimming faithfully to shore

In a sickening joke to go back for more.

I’d rather starve.

Riddle me this: How does one achieve true happiness?

By succumbing to that carnivorous wave

That feeds such convincing half-truths

Stuffing them into open, gasping mouths

- Oh Lord, how I long to meet my Lord –

I see evil!

Drams always drop you in the end

Because they’re constantly dreaming of someone else.