"This isn't a Fucking, Whining-ass Love Song."

My angels wings, long time ago
burned into ashes, from entry into
the Madness of the Atmosphere,
wherein I now live

Now I have Horns protruding from
my brow, and, they grow stronger
and longer, the more and more shit
that I go through and feel; it's no
longer heartache, no; its become an
arsenal of experience:

(I'd rather be filled with Hate and Rage
than to live my life Defeated and filled
           with undue Shame),

If the thoughts I think make the  you
want to rip my heart out of my chest
and devour it, before my eyes...

To prove that what I've done,
you fucking hate, and, my life...

Require

Then that's Your right

But what I won't do, is script up
lines that bitch and moan about
what I've done wrong

If you want to take out the whip
and slash me, an inch from my
mortal life; or, go psycho and
beat my ass: would that suffice you

I'll pay my penance and admit my...

"Last Rites,"

That are, "My Father, Who ain't in
Haelven, will You Receive Me, into
My Torments; Eternal: which are Your
Inflictions that haven't Waited for
me to Die, but, have so Wantingly,
begun in this Life,"

If you want to get ritualistic and
do some things that aren't at all
simplistic, then, I'm with it

But, I won't Grovel, like an infant: I'll
prove My Worth by My Deeds; which
are what mean, "EVERRRYYYTHIIINGGG

Because, they're the Works that come
from our Hearts and are the External
actions of who inside, we Fucking are

"Tell Me what You say You are, without
showing Me through Tangibility and I'll
tell You to, "Fuck Off; but, show me shit
through the Life You Live and the Scars
Imprinted in Your Skin, and, in You, I'll
Have a Friend,"