I'm grateful for the dead that have walked me through The Doors of Nirvana.
Leave my soul at rest In the Soundgarden, because I'm a slave to the audio, and we're born into this system of a downward spiral.
We're all Sick Puppies and Lost Prophets in our times of grace when our switch is engaged, we'll be All That Remains in the end of days.
I'm a voodoo child who was born to be wild. Just a simple man with a Simple Plan to be trapt in an Alien Ant Farm of a distant land.
We're all human clay carrying on for our wayward sons and daughters. Mothers and brothers of a Journey like no other. Just an Oasis of creations in such god forsaken places.
I've been avenged from a day I couldn't remember, yet I'm still Disturbed from a fire inside that burns the embers.
It's been awhile since I've robbed the zombies through the Crossfade of better days.
My souls blacker than the sabbath, yet able to Rise Against the pain of Rusted Roots and old bad habits.
I've spent all my quarters on someone who didn't care or ever shared the thoughts of feelings impaired.
I've been rolling like a stone while the sun shines down on my broken bones.
I'm coming home, like a country song far and gone for oh so very long.
The sandman has entered my theatre of dreams creating an illusion that cannot be seen.
These tears will fall but don't ever take a bullet for the Rancid Offspring of the diseased.
Let them bleed and be weak. It's your last resort, so stop living on a prayer, and don't be scared.
We The Kings will rise for the boys to fall out into men. With nothing left to give, we're used to giving in.
I'd love to see a day that wasn't green, so when I blink my Senses Fail, but you still know what I mean.
No need to panic, for we were meant to dance the night away and illuminate the disco balls of life in stride to survive before we die.
- Rich Gordon
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