End Of Destiny An Illness To Call Your Own
Shriek your vanity's
spawned from boredom
a cheap excuse for attention
ignoring blessings
embracing all thats wrong
you would stab your heart
for a sympathetic word
force fed your problems
every day we cry for you
so afraid you'll be boring
you cover yourself in gloom
and drag us down with you
will you be interesting?
when all are dead and gone?
come get your own disease
impress all your friends
let them cry for you
in fascination
so entertaining in your hell
immorality embraced within yourself
will you be interesting?
when all are dead and gone?
what did you expect you'd find?
when all is said and done?
So afraid of missing out
being ignored in happiness
mind twisted in agony
resentful of those without problems
your self image becomes your god
in this battle of degeneration
you would exchange every blessing
every miracle
every ounce of your integrity
only to obtain one thing
an illness to call your own
