• in these eyes you see pain,
    and though the world is but a game,
    all the peices in play
    that which remains, renames.
    love becomes hatred,
    lust becomes fear,
    death becomes life
    and all i hold dear,
    is turned into s**t,
    but a blister,
    but a bruise,
    all but turned against me,
    in lifes clever rouse.
    designed to deceive
    and lie and profane
    but then again,
    through these eyes
    life is but a game.