|
I got a story, a story to tell. |
|
About a long road |
|
back from a sory of hell |
|
I been flying almost every night. |
|
I been ready to burn |
|
and I been living to die. |
|
SO take a look, take a look in my eyes: |
|
Cause I got no remorse for all the hate |
|
that burns inside. |
|
Take a look at my suicide. |
|
Self destruction |
|
I know the streets can be so cold |
|
I know these streets |
|
can make you feel so cold. |
|
I've got this gun to my head all alone. |
|
Another bottle of pills almoste gone; |
|
My cigarette burns |
|
right trough my soul. |
|
I'm almoste home. |
|
And I'"ve seen: |
|
broken hearts and broken dreams |
|
like broken bodies. |
|
under the pale street lights tonight. |
|
I've seen the hate and yeah; |
|
I've heard the lies. |
|
So I turned my back |
|
and now I'm on the outside |
|
I know the streets can be so cold |
|
I'm almoste home. |
|
Self destruction. |
|
I'm on my way home. |