Crypt of Pain

Crypt of Pain

 

I’m unstable emotionally,

Sometimes, I sit in one room alone and get sad uncontrollably,

It feel like someone else is controlling me.

Sometime, I think I’ll feel better with some Jose Quervo and Patron in me,

Or maybe I just need somebody there who’s down with holding me.

Alone and inebriated, I’m steady swimming in my sorrows,

Not giving a damn about how the alcohol is making my insides slowly hollow.

Ironic, when you’re all alone, you wish you had somebody to follow.

When I’m down, not giving a damn about today or tomorrow,

My past covers my light, like the moon in a solar eclipse,

Every thought about the past influences me to take three sips.

Three sips, Six sips.

If life is a movie, I’m at a point where I rip scripts.

Nine sips, Twelve sips.

Now my mind has sailed ships to where Hell drips.

Alone I can clearly see where my pain dwells in a Hell crypt.

Outside the crypt are withered naked trees that are froze.

Intangible graves for my foes organized in rows.

The wind is filled with echoes of crows that wail my woes.

My crypt of pain enclosed in Hell, where a winter rose.

I grew cold because even in Hell, I saw the snow.