If Thoughts Could Kill, We'd Both be Deader Than a Week-Old Corpse

Please abuse me with fists perfectly formed.
Bite off my tongue so i wont say a word
(The anger dulls your beauty)
(The alcohol washes it completely away)…
A cantankerous cacophony of calamity.
Consume conscience but claim control.
(And its only now I realize that i’ve overexposed myself)…
I no longer believ