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Sadistik
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1
I might be dying sooner when I fight these nightly tumors/
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I assume it�s likely to in times in spite my dicey psyche/
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You know the drill, bite me. Screwdrivers to get me railed/
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Until I�m hammered enough to fall asleep on beds of nails/
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So take that hacksaw and saw this hack into a thousand pieces/
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Put it in your mouth and teeth it, chew it �til it�s ground between �em/
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Drain my blood and use it when you write a page/
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Describe the taste and tell me if I�m truly worth the ground I sleep in/
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It�s the semi-psychotic Henny and vodka mix/
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With some Remy Martin and a medley of monster flicks/
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I�m on a mission for the ending of all of this/
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I�m contradictive, full of empty intoxicants/
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I�m a desperate, desolate mess of skeletons/
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Who second guesses questions, intentions when all the messages/
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Mix and sections of skin are left dissecting your ribs, infected/
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With pestilent hexes that exorcists fix, so check it/
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I got two bad hands and still built this house of cards/
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Just an average Jack up in the Club who thinks he found a Heart/
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But I don�t go to clubs and don�t believe in love/
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Or holding hearts in grips unless this fist is into which it�s bleeding from/
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It�s bleeding from, it�s bleeding from, it�s bleeding from/
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I look into the bleeding sun and whisper with my bleeding tongue/
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All my poems are telling that the bleeding�s fun/
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Until this carcass reaches heartless, telling me the bleeding�s done/
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After birth, there�s just afterbirth/
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And after that�s the aftermath and consequences/
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�Cause after life there�s nothing that�s after death/
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And after death there�s no afterlife/
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And you�ll agree that eulogies and afterwords/
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Are�words, after birth from aftershocks/
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And afternoons of afterthoughts/
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So after you, I�ll follow you to Acheron/
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And after all, while you can�t just save yourself/
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From this place in Hell I�ll say farewell until the sun decays/
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With eyes open hoping nowhere nosy poachers dug our graves/
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The silence is talking, walk-in, we�ve all been in coffins/
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Hostage to cautious responses, solemn and lost in the nonsense/
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Often I follow my conscience, bottle and swallow my problems/
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Wallow in hollow with processes, toxic hostile menages/
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It�s just another itchy finger that I know expects to pull it/
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And I�m in the line of fire every time you�re sweating bullets/
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Because�(these nights) it�s getting harder now to go to (sleep tight)/
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When everything is haunting me�
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Until I take my heart and squeeze it �til the bleeding stops/
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(Speak to God), but I�d rather go and (reach the stars)/
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So I could pluck one out the sky to navigate inside this shallow grave/
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If I can�t find my way back home/
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Know that I�m safe in these catacombs/
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I stand alone in the window with the casket closed/
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And latch to hold the stack of bones/
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Yeah this ship is on the path I roam, but that�s just home/
Sadistik - Free Spirits [Official Video]
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