Withered to dust
Like metal to rust
Please take this skin
My proudest of sins
Feel blight in their glare
Like knives when they stare
Losing my mind
In the garden of eyes
This place isn't home
I like it alone
Or smoking with you
And nothing to do
Shelter in the vines
Nectars taste of wine
But covered by throns
I'm bound to be scorned
Spare, nothing
No greater fear
I was born here
Fortunate son to no one
They are watching
Will I ever be free
Or stuck in filth & disease
Garden of eyes
In the trail of lies
Follow the path
Or meet your demise