Every man has his breaking point,
But does that mean he's insane.
Mentally camouflaged thoughts of stone,
Fueling his mind-fucked game.
Shot a mans cold-blooded heart,
Right between the eyes.
Windows of darkness all around,
Keep him hypnotized.
Can you look in his eyes,
Are they filled with pain?
Are you murdered to sleep,
Or is it all the same.
On the darkside, of your mind
Killing fields of deranged ambition,
Shooting through his brain.
Psychopathic bullets confusing him,
Was he the one to blame.
Piling bodies, decaying smell.
Running through his mind.
As he screams running mad,
The dying all the time.
