I've got a problem
A problem with hate
I can't go on dragging this weight
A cold steel hand that won't let go
Acid-filled thoughts out of control
I built myself a nice little cage
With bars of anger and a lock of rage
I can't help asking who's got the key?
When I know damned well it's me
No I ain't hinting for sympathy
I'm used to dealing with apathy
The scars on my wrists may seem like a crime
Just wish me better luck next time
Type O Negative
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