Sitting home and I’m thinking,
I’m alone at my dark room and thoughts blinking.
Thick memories of what I’ve early seen.
Sick memories of what I’ve early been.
Self destructive life, back and forth,
side to side with these crazy boys.
Playgrounds with crazy toys, making scary noise.
Did I really have another choice?
Loyalty before dishonor, we believe.
Still a young boy but I’m exhausted of seeking for sleep.
From a drop to a pond it becomes a creek.
Sweat drips down my cheek and then goes deep.
No longer no pain, I’m getting used to it,
but who told you to do it?
The man with no face, the man’s on a hot place,
at least what they say, that its the devils way.
Tekst. Mathias Kinn