Poets Of The Fall

Well, it’s a different man in your face
And so out of place,
That you can see anything there that you wish…
Kiss my bliss…
It’s like I’m a welcoming freakshow doormat,
Held in awe while growing fat in the head…
This is where we all should see red;
A big fat wet slab of red.
And I see that it makes me anti-everything…
And I see that it makes me want to shed my skin, shed my skin…
Revelation leading to my psychosis and inspiration.
Digest another hallucination, psychosis by recreation,
Happy till the next deterioration.
Psychosis…