You’re too fucking weak to live a day in my head and you’re too fucking scared to realize heaven's hell. You live your life in a rut, with the blinds drawn shut, with your head in your hands like a shot to the gut. Chasing a chance at the top with a smile and a wave, this city is full of fakers, this city is full of graves. No better than the trash on the tracks, blank like concrete on the street. I love the hate I hold. Growing up, I learned how to sit and listen. Now I stand up and take aim from my position. Ripped from the dead minds of the majority and hearing the lies of the civil authority. I'm the fucking gun shoved into your back. They're all dead inside with hollow eyes forcing words upon their tongues to disguise their miserable fucking lives. They are all in the stars, but I'm looking at the gutter.