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How many of these fucking drugs
Is it going to take?
Line after line,
And I'm still writing lines.
Shouldn't I be choking
In some narcotic pool of vomit?
I guess this must be the proof.
I only thought I survived.
I mean, if I wake up tomorrow afternoon
Then it's obvious I'm dead.
I spent my entire life
Searching for this happiness
To be playfully robbed.
I've always had the notion-
"Maybe I actually did die."
But now I think I get it.
I could blow my brains out,
Right here, right now,
And I'd awake with a solid skull,
Like it was all a good dream.
I'm so damn insane.
I guess that's hell's game.
Eternal "life," my gift from the fire.
I really need to know.
I need you to tell me...
Are you alive? Are you real?
Are you this perfectly crafted joke
Designed by satan to fuel his sick humor?
I hope not.
Really, for his sake, I hope you just abandoned me.
Because if I awake tomorrow,
against impossible odds,
And I mean impossible-
Like, literally only god himself
Could pull that miracle off,
And I can guarantee
He's straight up done with me-
I will know for sure.
And if I'm dead, mark my eternal words-
I will kill this immortal beast,
By any means neccesary.
This is a
Two and a half year old joke
That's ran
Two and a half years too long.
It might be fucked up speculation now,
But we'll find out tomorrow.
If I'm not being planted like your flowers;
If I wake up in this bed,
In this house,
At all even without your love,
Then I'll have solved the riddle,
And then murder the devil.