Fault. Other. Frustration Beyond Control. Zeneszám

Remember when I had a voice and something to say? Fact opinion on life in the American way. Truth and justice, plus a system, what?s it all mean? We?re all living a lie called the American dream. Thinking back when I had a grip but I slipped. I wish I could control frustration, I turned into it. And so I read between the lines, I guess I can?t. So I could never be the same, emotions don?t click. So now you see the smiling corpse I once was. Toxins of my surroundings corrodes my blood. Obsessions with what I cannot be. I will never try. (Astraea cries, inosense lost, your bleeding heart, upon the cross) Thinking back