Life slowly eats all of us alive as we gasp for a familiar breath, sweet familiar hell we call hope, we call home, we call love, we call dreams or friends or lovers or what was or will be But Hope, you foul thief ! of many names changing faces, changing nothing. You'll have us all, you psychotic beast feasting on all of us dead or alive you'll have us all, you psychotic grace ! no shortage of food for slaughter for you, and only in death will I find release from the burning tension of your burning waking nightmare.
