every wants to think serve some kind of purpolse in this world
and everyone wants to make someone cry and bring flowers at their funeral
but everyone's a slave to them self
everybody thinks they get some special magic from all of these icons that we make of gl*ss and stone
and everybody reaches to the sky to trick themselves into believing that we're not alone
but jesus was born in a barn that's why he leaves the door open
i'd rather be a murderer than to be a murder victim
everyone's a slave to them self, and everyone's afraid of them self.
and n*body has ever loved no one except maybe them self.