The world I see is bleak and gray.
Scumbag women made of clay.
Smokers, shooters, druggies, drinkers,
Poets, artists, and free-thinkers.
Where am I and where are we?
Life is short, and hell is free.
Painted neon but still dead,
I�m only worth what�s in my head.
I want the truth. I want to see.
I want to live. I want to be.
But my heart�s been ripped out of me.
This smog is my reality.
Pull me out and make me real.
Let me breathe and let me feel.
Am I here or am I dreaming?
I can�t tell what fate is scheming.
Is this life of mine worth leading?
Maybe my knife�s good for something...