>>12384770 (OP)
(ay wish on da beat yo)
BLESS the Lord, how great I can feel
and his position I think I can STEAL;
This itch to KILL that makes me tick
an ache to taste that I could LICK.
My TEETH feel cold, my stomach a bloat,
this urgent pain, taken hold of my THROAT.
My DREAM to leave, I'll call its bluff
despite this world that leaves me so ROUGH.
A TOY I feel as, in endless perplexion;
my only respite being cold AFFECTION.
The PREDATION of the masses which encroach
leave me, myself, without any APPROACH.
A MORAL I speak of, yet depart from in haste
for my blood, my guilt I cannot TASTE.
How sin may ENTICE me, cut my skin into lesion,
as I can't help but to CUT UP ANY SENSE OF REASON.
