Private Hell
as darkness falls upon open graves
my hunger for death grows more each day
I try myself to grant my wish
So I can feed my pet fish
and here upon grave i lay
let me pray oh let me pray

Suffering in my own private hell
Screaming as I toll my very own bell
Different voices ripping my head down
Self pity the salt in my very own wounds
My conciousness in tatters and my visons in ruins
Forgiving my shortcomings in various ways
Time slowly slipping away as I rack through my days
Fighting myself, I cannot defend
The voices laugh as I twist and bend
Machine gun is empty and I need to reload
I've become evil, twisted and so very damn cold.