There is a certain constant tension inside my skull. Insecurities that used to make me crazy now just make me dull. So I'm scrounging in a western void searching for relief. You can check out early & die while you're young or peak, wither & wait for disease.
The party has died. Hangover subside. With clamped open eyes I watch the death tolls rise. I hunt with open wounds & sorrow by my side. The hacks & actors are pretty and convincing, but it is you & I who shine the lovely light.
The fever hunt rages on inside my head.
Unrelenting heat. Death: Become dirt. You can't choose. I am tearing through the obese & subdued. Gutting and dropping those who try to drag me down. To see is to suffer. There is no relief. Your heaven on Earth is hell to me.
You can laugh along with the laugh track. You can wear ambition as disguise. You can exploit everyone around you. You can call it a struggle to survive. I hunt with open wounds & sorrow by my side. The more I see the less I need.