Testo di Meth Mouth

These problems exist inside my mind like a heavy New Orleans fog My thinking has slowed itself down to a crawl unwillingly Compassion fueled By depression My savior is death Does this make sense My love is silenced By ignorance My answer is death Does this make sense The wind has picked up since last night and it carries with grief Our worried nature drowns us in a frigid ocean of regret My breathing stands still just long enough to feel inept Me On the receiving end of honest hostility And you On the giving end of the candid frustration