Hell - Downswing

In the dark with a postcard marked from Hell

Contains blame, shame, and all the things you could never tell

Always focused on the emphasis

Of your hidden queues of malcontent

Can I bare to pretend that this is how it ends?

Selfish, uncaring, carved out of stone

Thereʼs nothing to feel when I think of your bones

Sike, my thoughts are tragic out of habit

I lie to myself to try and grasp it

This is a test of self-worth

Before things turn for the worst

For the worst