Not given a proper chance.
|God scripted my way down south
And I don't want to go back home,
Darkness is my serenity don't you see
The illusions of bad is the norm for me
Because I tried to succeed but I'm blown every time
And every time I fall I hear the soul chime
Then I have an urge for pain; a final bedtime
It's as if I'm cursed like a kindled gulf of fire
Burning my ashes overtime as I get older
The church is looming, I sense the welcoming choir
I'm the green-eyed monster of every ones smile
I o'er rauhot my emotions by thinking suicidal
Vindictive, wall-eyed at people as I stand idle.