MilK

 Stabbed in the back, finding it hard to keep track,
of time when all I'm doing is runnin' around in circles
What's the point of struggling when nothing goes your way?
I would say... wait a minute, there's nothing left to say,
better make way for the future, which looks dark and decaying, we better be praying,
that our maker gives us a rightful trial,
oh yes he will try y'all, have you been good or bad?
for your souls sake you shouldn't have made him mad,
but we ought to be glad that this whole shit finally comes to an end, I'm sorry to say that this is the last message I'll send
"Sorry"? Nah I'm just pulling your leg again, this so-called "reality" feels more like purgatory, like a bad acid trip mixed up in a laboratory.