With Eyes Closed

Pride and poverty

Prejudice and blessadness

This everlasting sickness

Will spread its wings

And let it rain

You’re standing there

Looking down at me

Below I stand and ever will

You won’t understand

What’s killing me

Too sick of feeling

Too sick of breathing

Too sick of weeping

Too sick from sleeping

This is what I chose

It’s my liberty

My Personal gas chamber

My cheating gambler

Come away with me

Come and see

My liberty

Is every nowhere

In the end

You’re standing empty-handed