Standards Of Misanthropy

Death is my final doctor

Once again they are ominous, people around me
Listening what they have to say, counting white lies
Plans for isolation
The solitude as my blessing and my curse
I'm aware that I'll always be lost
I'm tired of obeying standards

Degeneration
Regeneration
Formula for beginning

Once again they are capricious, my murderous emotions
Sitting alone in my room, holding kitchen knife
Fear of the doorbell
Curtains hide the heart of sick
I'm aware that I'll always be lost
I'm tired of obeying standards

Once again I have their attention
Ones who clear my sense
Keeping my mind open, solving the enigma
Seeking something delightful
Shoveling my own path
I'm aware that I'll always be lost
I'm tired of obeying standards