in a world of devoid of emancipation, like leaves too many question marks, on my conscience, why?, why look up, the ground is so much more pleasing, and it's where these eyes belong, i renounce, i renounce myself, what i have become is not, what i wish to be, break my neck, i've become too accustomed to hopes, hope's cruel grasp, progression or regression, it all ends the same, in a world devoid, emotionless, in a life such as this, only death is certain, so why wait, break my heart, cut my throat, when everything has ended, what have we accomplished, slaves by design, break my neck
