I’m so torn and ambivalent,
That my limbs lay dismembered on the floor.
To take a nap so I can make it through another night of hell?
To pay my tithing in blood to my passion?
All day, I crave the taste of gasoline.
I don’t need it,
But the tingling of my dismembered limbs
Would help to take the edge off the strain and burning pain.
Maybe I’ll go back into hiding,
And let the world forget my existence.
I don’t want to do this anymore.
I can’t do this anymore.
I can’t breathe.