Save Yourself

(álbum: The Art Of Dying - 2010)

I might be dying sooner when I fight these nightly tumors
I assume it's likely to in times in spite my dicey psyche
You know the drill, buy me screwdrivers to get me railed
Until I'm hammered enough to fall asleep on beds of nails
So take that hacksaw and saw this hack into a thousand pieces
Put it in your mouth and teeth it, chew it 'til it's ground between 'em
Drain my blood and use it when you write a page
Describe the taste and tell me if I'm truly worth the ground I sleep in
It's the semi-psychotic Henny and vodka mix
With some Remy Martin and a medley of monster flicks
I'm on a mission for the ending of all of this
I'm contradictive, full of empty intoxicants
I'm a desperate, desolate mess of skeletons
Who second guesses questions, intentions when all the messages
Mix and sections of skin are left dissected and ripped, infected
With pestilent hexes that exorcists fix, so check it
I got two bad hands and still built this house of cards
Just an average Jack up in the Club who thinks he found a Heart
But I don't go to clubs and don't believe in love
Or holding hearts in grips unless this fist is into which it's bleeding from
It's bleeding from, it's bleeding from, it's bleeding from
I look into the bleeding sun and whisper with my bleeding tongue
All my poems are telling that the bleeding's fun
Until this carcass reaches harvest, telling me the bleeding's done

Stars, they come and go
They come fast or slow
They go like the last light of the sun, all in a blaze
Everything I know that's real

After birth, there's just afterbirth
And after that's the aftermath and consequences
'Cause after life there's nothing that's after death
And after death there's no afterlife
And you'll agree that eulogies and afterwords
Are... words, after-burn from aftershocks
And afternoons of afterthoughts
So after you, I'll follow you to Acheron
And after all, while you can't just save yourself
From this place in Hell I'll say farewell until the sun decays
With eyes open hoping nowhere nosy poachers dug our graves
The silence is talking, walk-in, we've all been in coffins
Hostage to cautious responses, solemn and lost in the nonsense
Often I follow my conscience, bottle and swallow my problems
Wallow in hollow with processes, toxic hostile menages
It's just another itchy finger that I know expects to pull it
And I'm in the line of fire every time you're sweating bullets
Because... (these nights) it's getting harder now to go to (sleep tight)
When everything is haunting me...
Until I take my heart and squeeze it 'til the bleeding stops
(Speak to God), but I'd rather go and (reach the stars)
So I could pluck one out the sky to navigate inside this shallow grave
If I can't find my way back home
Know that I'm safe in these catacombs
I stand alone in the window with the casket closed
And latch to hold the stack of bones
Yeah this ship is on the path I roam, but that's just home