Garbage Post: Creek Of Chains

The enemy wanted a killer love story

Jump off a building or overdose on sleeping pills

Inject a bottle of insulin, pull the trigger with a gun sparkling and glistening

Jump into a river, run out in traffic, crash my car into concrete

Had darkness taunting and calling me through sleep

Played Big’s suicidal thoughts while crying

A fake sense of relief in images of death fatalities dying

Hearing the world would be better off in my departure

The classic record I’ll never do anything right

All I would do is hurt people multiply evil

Always referring to quicksand, the enemy begged and pleaded for my hands.

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