In my mind it is clear, a truth within, I hold the key;
Through the fields of joy, at times of pain, I am fury

Nurture the food of my disgust, their pain will easy my victory;
Before despondent, insecure, now focused on reality
My soul can shape the mould of time, I am a chosen entity;
Defy the gaping wounds that cry: Fury is now becoming me

Tired of reading lies, stretched wretched whore,
Soul searching plea

Lies nurture my discontent, sick of the same cursing voice
I will spit on your graves