God doesn’t love me
I have a lot to get off my chest
No need for a confession
Just give me the ashtray
Inhale. Exhale
Curses come out before the smoke
If I dirty my body and mouth
Hell
Will I remember you for a moment?
You’re my sleeping pill, my caffeine
My virus, my vaccine
My bible, my dirty magazine under my bed
I’m in trouble
We’re perfectly fitting pieces for different puzzles
What the unholy world considers holy
They cannot change me.
Nothing can save me.

You try to run away,
run away from the world.
But then you run away,
run away from yourself
and you don’t know the way home
I believe in myself
I believe in the moments I can see with my eyes
I believe in this drink
But they call me a non-believer.

You try to run away,
run away from the world.
But then you run away,
run away from yourself
and you don’t know the way home.
I believe in myself
I believe in the sweat on my hands
I believe in my heart
I believe in love
But they call me a non-believer.

A greater vice than selling me drugs is selling me the wrong answer
That answer is my fear, reeling in ignorance and unhappiness
It’s a business that sells me meat for several times more than it’s valued
I eat it for nothing
Fate carries life and the mission
Marinating salvation with ideas of fame
On top of an unknown future
It’s the source of a thousand illnesses that kicks away the meal table of the starved reality
It’s hell’s kitchen
They’re all gathering under the red sign of their favorite place
Saying each place is the original, being stubborn about their own taste
What they sell is the same poison
The scariest of it all are the overeating ideas
Just one meal of answers makes the table shake
Making you salivate until you can’t even hold the spoon anymore
Blind beliefs, showing signs of indigestion only after you show blood

You try to run away,
run away from the world.
But then you run away,
run away from yourself
and you don’t know the way home
I believe in myself
I believe in the moments I can see with my eyes
I believe in this drink
But they call me a non-believer.

You try to run away,
run away from the world.
But then you run away,
run away from yourself
and you don’t know the way home.
I believe in myself
I believe in the sweat on my hands
I believe in my heart
I believe in love
But they call me a non-believer.

There’s no way home.

They break a perfectly fine leg and make you use a cane
They make you eat a poisonous apple when you’re hungry
They make you hold guns and knives instead of hands
Are you all clean?

They break a perfectly fine wing and make you crawl on the ground
They click tongues and point fingers
Does that mean you can throw stones at the sin-less?
Isn’t throwing a stone a sin itself?

Oh God.
He doesn’t love me.
I know He doesn’t love me.
Well, neither do I.
Neither do I.

We are others.

We are the others.