You're super tragic

Super fallen

Super fucked.

You're my enemy

A diluted piece of shit

Making me fall for your worthless tactics.

I worshipped your ground

A fiction fairy tale in disguise

Like a dream.

It feels almost like drowning

Like dying

Like praying.

Hey Mister Anti-synagogue

You wear those glasses

The shiny ones where I can see myself vomiting

In their luminescent glare.

I crack the mirror

The reflection of what you have created

Without the depth and insightfulness

To see inside of my soul.

But your like a stitch

A wound that can't be repaired

Cut open with scars as your witnesses.

Coincidentally, I'm on my way to hell

I offer you a ride

It's your one-way ticket

The ticket to equivalence of my being.

I tried to be an angel

I tried to be the demon

I tried to get inside your head

But you push me away.

I have understandings, knowledge

That pleases myself

So no need to please you.

With the vile repairs made

Your surgery of the ego is completed

And now your plastic thoughts

Won't need to interfere

No.Sense.Makes.Sense