I am imperfect for this world
 And caught up in a fruitless game
 That..s all less than what I believed.
 In stinging submission acknowledge deceit.
 What will I be?
 I cannot see.
 Will I find peace?

 A world built on lies
 And careless ambiguity.
 Now gone inside
 Content now with no security.

 Surging with stinging sensation,
 Saturate weakness in inebriation.
 Adrenalin shakes,
 Blistered, bled, battered, bruised,
 Do you have what it takes
 To suffer these wounds?