Seems like a work of fiction in a book labeled thriller.
Wake up! can't you see what's burning? For it's the
smoke in a book, in a page that keeps turning.
I cannot explain an elaborate way to show, of
all the criminal thoughts, in which my brain flow.
I hear reality, but I turn the volume down.
I see fantasy, when I knock you to the ground!
You judge me, and that is why my conscience cannot cope,
Now, I resort to the truth, in the drugs I smoke!
But I wanna be different, I wanna be the other you,
I wanna experience life without regrets, in what I must do.
One wouldn't understand the truth in my plan, for I
Came to torment your mind, 'cause I'm a crazy man!
The beginning of my verse
Seems quite objective at first.
Can you decide what is worse,
My guilt, or my thirst?
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