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Troubled Times
Day by day I go through trouble, stuck in this tiny bubble.
What bubble to ask?
It's the bubble inside this flask of evil.
I try to find what is real and what is not, I put all of my troubles inside of a pot.
I cook them until I see no more, I make my own life with my own galore.
Demons haunt my mind, trapped inside my body.
I say "What are you doing here?" When I fear no response they say "I'm the Illuminati."
Misusing my body, for they are the Illuminati inside my mind they haunt!
I am the one they fear because I know all and what is near.
For they feed on the flesh of their victims, trying to get past all of the symptoms.
We find yourself in the middle of troubles haunted by our own fears, shedding our tears for only our worse's fears.
Day by day night by night we live the fight, trying to keep what is in sight of our life's, hearing about people killing their wife's.
It's a hard time out in the real world, keeping whats real and whats not real in the bottle and shake it up into a cocktail.
We sip on our life's like it's liquor, seeming as we only die quicker.
It's all about the troubled times.
