A winters day sprays the bitter stabbing wind upon my sadistic epxression.
The sun rises, no suprises, there's no change in that bitter stabbing wind.
Feeling like I've sinned I walk in shame not in fame.
Beelzebub stalks me and scratches in the pain
People try to console, but I just submit and bury myself under hot coals.
Give me trophies, give me medals.
You try to feed my ego, but please let me go, and no, don't follow me home.
Because, you will find yourself. Alone.
I juggled this up last night. From a state of mind.
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