Due to mistakes I have made on my way,

I've fallen into self-indulgence, shallow pharmaceutical craze,

Let this rage-fueled menace set 'blaze,

A hallucinogen hurricane's defining my days.

In this wasteland created by shortcomings of mine,

I keep looking for a sign, be it hellish or divine, I don't care

What it is, or who made its design,

The voices in my head now intertwine.

Today they weigh my deeds, my way,

If I may stay, grow grey or be prey,

I pray: cliché - I know, to lay

My eyes on sun's first morning rays.

This is the time, I'm in my prime,

When I rhyme about my crime; and climb,

To the top paradigm, or the drop of a dime,

Before I get to hear the bell's last chime.

Never been one to easily give up a mission,

In addition to never asking permission to condition

Myself into health or whatever cognition

I'd need only one munition to fulfil my ambition.

And not to be bragging, but I'm in a position,

Where by sheer omission of you I can get you in submission,

'cause the pen and the paper always built compositions,

That I don't need to change, I'm a sucker for tradition.

Today they weigh my deeds, my way,

If I may stay, grow grey or be prey,

I pray: cliché - I know, to lay

My eyes on sun's first morning rays.

This is the time, I'm in my prime,

When I rhyme about my crime; and climb,

To the top paradigm, or the drop of a dime,

Before I get to hear the bell's last chime.

The days has come for non-believers,

To better start praying at the sight of your hearse,

'cause I traverse this curse unrehearsed,

Observe how you disperse as I'm dropping this verse.

Would you look at that, it's still getting worse,

As I shed my insecurities to intersperse

Some offence into this already quite perverse

Lyrical revelation that is my universe