Friend? I am no friend to deniers They will weep with my floods of rage The brine will swell their eyes, With the tears, my lengths I will gauge.
But I walk the streets and the trees gush To the bystanders they simply imply ‘hush’, their demeanor spells ‘I will turn you into slush’ this is how it goes in the streets without bush
Hah, it is high time I strum another symphony, since the decading world needs a final slash, Shout at me, blame me, call me phony, all ends are desperate, our minds are quite lonely.
Friends, our enemy is close, he lurks among us, his evil soul reeks a sensory overload to my hateful impulse you will see me change once it peaks
But I entertain, from it I don’t think I’ll refrain friends, I will endure the pain, but he will not I am a spike, he won’t bend me painlessly and once he twists, his soul will wring and fade.