| Divided he stands, inhuman to the core | |
| He lashes away at life 'cause he feels he deserves a little more | |
| Than the ordinary every day caged angels and freaks | |
| Listen in his voice when he speaks | |
| Hear it like the anger in the roar of the thundering storm cloud | |
| But wicked is the weather that continues to rain down upon him | |
| Light watered on him in a bad way and all that that hate is doing to me | |
| And now he sits in the dead of the night thinking of two ways to die | |
| But he can't get it right, he's still alive | |
| Killer by design, he took the long road home | |
| But the road was closed, no way home | |
| I supposeOn the last hunt for the youth and the runaways | |
| Killed his blood relatives and then murdered his first grades | |
| Long gone, any moments when the heart is suppose to beat | |
| And there's no one home behind the walls of vacancy of his mind | |
| No matter what they do to me, no matter what they say | |
| I can't do right, | |
| I always go the other way | |
| They can't reach me, | |
| I refuse to reason | |
| I am lost in my wicked mind and it's killing season | |
| It's been a wash ever since he was born | |
| And so he sits at home alone | |
| Just trying to weather the storm | |
| Hoping that the clouds will quit taking the form | |
| Of a demon or a devil or an angel free fall | |
| He's like the spawn of a million hated souls | |
| In a downward spiral so out of control | |
| He lost the battle of life and couldn't have any kids with his wife | |
| And so he fucked her with a butcher knife | |
| There's nothing left but he stays alive to spite | |
| All the people that just wish he was down by sunlight | |
| But he ain't going nowhere until they're coming to get him | |
| So it's better to forget and just act like you never met him | |
| If the chance comes, walk on the other side of the street | |
| Because he just might be the last man you ever meet | |
| And if you let him he would do some of the evilest deeds | |
| And let your mind wander just for a second and you can see | |
| No matter what they do to me, no matter what they say | |
| I can't do right, | |
| I always go the other way | |
| They can't reach me, | |
| I refuse to reason | |
| I am lost in my wicked mind and it's killing season | |
| Confused she is given this little gift of life corrupted inside | |
| Trackted by every guy she bites | |
| Every force in her path she feels wrong | |
| But inside insinuation couldn't be more wrong | |
| She presses on through the world every day with more rage | |
| And the day is like a book and it's written across her face | |
| And the anger in her voice when she's letting the demons speak | |
| In a fit with herself after words of her being weak, losing control | |
| Tied to whatever little soul she retains | |
| Minusing all of the portions she gave away | |
| To this point everything in her life has been pointless | |
| She's well in tune with feeling of disappointments | |
| She killed her true self back in the day | |
| And have never been the same since that selfish rage | |
| Long gone, any moments when the heart is suppose to beat | |
| And there's no one home behind the walls of vacancy of her mind | |
| No matter what they do to me, no matter what they say | |
| I can't do right, | |
| I always go the other way | |
| They can't reach me, | |
| I refuse to reason | |
| I am lost in my wicked mind and it's killing season |
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