As I sit here in my angst filled room
I turn on my angry computer
And delight in the melancholy aroma permeating my life
I can't help but be anything but sad
Life is kind of bad
It's the fault of my dad
I sat as a child in this same angst filled room
He knocked on the door and walked inside
We talked for awhile
I felt a horrible chill
It was my soul exiting through an extremity
I had been violated
And now I sit here
Alone, tortured, and depressed
My white makeup has caused me to break out
Therefore I put on more to hide it
Continuing the vicious cycle of my existence
Make it end
I converse with the dead at the end of the day
The graveyard is my second home
Take me away from here
Release me