Unkind, be like
fake smile
be like drowning
in the middle of Nile
without lifeboat
without know
how to swimming
only the malevolent truth
no matter how strong you shout
nobody will jump in to save
the sad true is
you don’t need to go to Nile
to feel this despair
open your eyes
and try to take a deep breath
heavy air, heavy air
so unfair
our Nile is around of us


Ghost and his point of view ( final )

Sick, deep, creepy inside of me
Let it bleed
Let it die without breath
Newborn full of sins
Love to hate that kind of shit
“I am full of shit, I am the worst here
Don’t need to pray
I know where I gonna lay
God forgives
But who betray
Your confidence in me
Telling shit
That I believe in Him?
Limbo? Heaven?
Hell is where I already lived
Remember? I am sick
Of this stupid things that everyone throw me in
I negotiate my soul so many times
That I have nothing to burn in to burning river
If Lúcifer want a little piece
He will have to get it with my drug dealer
Shine, from my teeth, shiver
After I die I think about my last line
Large dose of White Horse with some chords of John Coltrane
Depression hugs me so tight
For one second I feel like
I am immortal, maybe God’s like
So, suicide
I tried so many times
And I have failed so many times
One last attempt, right?
Deep cuts, overdose of cyanide
One last breath, I remember the bitter taste of my whiskey
The puke fills my throat
No air, no hope
These last seconds
No one seems to care
Even if I shout, who will appear?
Yeah, right… like my dignity
Everyone just…disappear


Of memories… Of remains

Past continues to feed
of memories
of remains
of better days
of nights full of rain
of people that drain
our sad complain
of this hypocrite existence
that we must open a large smile
everyday single fucking day
just cause whe are alive and well
well? only inside our shell
with thorns and a lot of creepy things
like a nightmare coming directly from hell


Ghost and his point of view ( pt. 25 )

How to love
when all the good stuff
already gone?
Over and over
like a four-leaf clover
it’s so beauty, like a stover
check out more closer
the fire burns the eyes, but cannot burn the lies
that we use to denies
the simple truth of our lifes
the good stuff is a bad magic trick
that older ones uses to fed us
trying to pretend that we aren’t sick


Ghost and his point of view ( pt. 23 )

Everytime that I tried to hide
this sick pain that I carried inside
my eyes brought out tears
that could fill rivers
my eyes painted red
but, who really cared?
my problems, my bag
“God gives to you a cross that you can carry”
sometimes, I laughed about it
I never really cared about how heavy this thing was
I just want to stop the voices, the noises
always pointing me the wrong choices
I just want to silence the pain
thats why these marks, that’s why I teared my veins
selfish, like everyone here
living into a dead world, digital Gods choosing
the best sinner to fullfill their private party, already losing
the good sense of ridiculous, so ambitious
and my voices still whispering, look so ambiguous
cos I already scream all this crap
and, again, nobody cared
maybe writting in blood they will get it…