Žodžiai dainai: Irate. Gone.

As I relive all the twisted, dark sides of a tainted memory. I realize that the facets I hide continue to haunt me. I can't forgive all the punishment that they dealt me blow by blow. I used to feel some sympathy for the ones who didn't know.
It's GONE.
Father sits blank his thoughts are of second son. Crying tears of shame. Father, he went and led his own life astray, and you're not to blame. He got sucked up by the angel he lusted, he'll never be the same. He keeps on fighting, his demons decided: recessive mental fate.
I ain't lying. GONE.
I'm so fucking stressed out, want to blow my brains out, guess the pressure's getting to me.
I just can't shake this feeling of worthlessness as I stare at the ceiling, a useless mess. No god or drug can save me from my distress. Only my friend my brother can rebuild what is left.
GONE