Take solace in rage
for fear is blinding
and hate is cruel and useless

These things make me wonder...
About the poisons I have within.
So many...all of which were listed

Rage for those who deserve death
tempt me and make me tense
and push me to the edge.

For those who have no excuses for what they do...
who feel life is disposable until it actually ends.
Then suddenly feel guilty for those they pushed to the end.

All the people who claim to love life...
they forget a part, though...
they love only some life...only THEIR life.

I take my solace from rage.

Fear only blinds...
so have no fear of predilection.
I will not censer myself.

This world...damnation.
Nothing مزید then war.

Hate begets hate
blood-shed begets blood-shed
and this so-called wonderful world is dying before you
yet no one seems to care...
because they fear the very thing they are causing.
Oh, the blind and کڑوا, تلخ truth.

Fear causes blindness.

Hatred causes no مزید then it's name.
And bares no reason
یا cause that's meaningful

Hatred makes war...useless war.
If آپ keep killing then there will be nothing left...
but a marble face of memory, standing cold under all wind
and blood-stained hands never come clean.

Hatred has no use but cruelty.

So sit a long and jealous vigil
for those who آپ caused death to
with no مزید then sharp words and
barbed taunts آپ thought nothing of.

The silent vigil آپ caused
and the life آپ thought nothing of until it's end
when آپ finally find it precious
and آپ care so suddenly
for a life آپ thought nothing of during it's breathing time.

The untimely death آپ caused
with a cup of poisonous words آپ placed to their lips
and forced them to drink.
Yet now....you دکھائیں up like you've always loved the person.
Why only now?

I can no longer bare being
the one that hangs so precariously on this edge.
I do battle with demons in and out.

As I vainly seek distraction from this life
which I do live so hidden.
But who can say which venom...
will take my soul from this body...?

This so temporary, fragile vessel...
as I try to find truth again....next night...
and my demons mass against me.

The bells toll as another tragedy
takes the streets and causes care
that wasn't there before.
Oh, the blind and کڑوا, تلخ things...

The ever straining ropes that keep use here
cut slowly سے طرف کی the pseudo involvement in our lives
and the case of the fake people who pretend to care
only after it's to late.

And I'll take my solace in rage
آپ take it where آپ find it...
but 'tis what keeps me here...
for revenge has a sweetness no one can deny...