Texty: Napalm Death. Fear, Emptyness, Despair. Throwaway.

:
I've slipped the noose, the shackles are off.
My maturity fixation outshines.

It's go for broke and fuck it all, with head held higher (than thou)

I am the man that used to care.
Who was I then?

So quizzical with foresight.
Now I've favored to savor the flavor of nine - to - five intuition.

Out with the old, in with the new regime.
I sold my soul to the rebotised dream.

I'm just an empty shell with integrity scooped out.
A painted smile, a glass - eye high on two that can't cry.

Touch me, I'm cold to the merits of (real) love.
I stepped back from the edge when other slipped off.

And all because society told me to.