EpicPencil

Male

New York, New York

Sports, Hockey, video games.

I scrape, I crawl, I bleed for this.
I fight I brawl I feind for this I feed on this.
I show no signs of weaknesses, I hate the hedonist.
I love nights full of sleeplessness.

I call suffering my brother. I love him like my mother.
We look out for each other, we'd die for one another.
I fight, I brawl, I feind for this.
I scrape, I crawl, I bleed for this.


Hearts gone, march on. Our lives are par 1.
Kids learn to draw guns, before they learn to draw the sun.
Emotionless, an orphanage that's full of carcasses.
Where feinds score morphine, horror scenes and heartlessness.

Paul-bearers carry only sons. Loved ones hang their heads.
Best friends could make your bed.
Turn a blind eye or catch a blind side when they drive by.
Not mine they scream, not mine, then they pop 9's.

Impossible, it's impossible they say.
I pray to make it work but only Satan listens when I pray.
I wish you well, but wishes don't come true.
You could throw a brick of gold into a wishing well.

I wish you well, living ?hell? inside of a prison cell.
Cell-mates put you in checkmate and shove shanks right through your breastplate.
And rest assured they won't hesitate.
Until you hesitate to respirate, terrorize, suffocate.

I scrape, I crawl, I bleed for this.
I fight I brawl I feind for this I feed on this.
I show no signs of weaknesses, I hate the hedonist.
I love nights full of sleeplessness.

I call suffering my brother. I love him like my mother.
We look out for each other, we'd die for one another.
I fight, I brawl, I feind for this.
I scrape, I crawl, I bleed for this.

Sentimental will leave you mental.
Cuz nowadays only the lives of the menace are monumental, bloody shirts.
The spindle spins red thread into a web.
Until the bodies pile up a mile up above your heads.

And the webs are full of black widows,
who try and end you with their riddles. Try and keep you in the middle
til your bones are dry and brittle.
You battle. broken and lonesome, until they tear your body open.

It could make you, it could break you.
Prides roam the streets.
Roaring lions seek and devour for power
They'll put you to sleep.

His eyes on the sheep.
He lies in the heat.
No retreat.
He loves to greet the fetus of the weak.

His children tell them,
Bring us something sweet.
Bring us white bring us light-skinned bring us dark meat.

Young boys with sharp ears
Train with steel spears.
It's real here.
Someone better kill for a meal (mill?) here.

I scrape, I crawl, I bleed for this.
I fight I brawl I feind for this I feed on this.
I show no signs of weaknesses, I hate the hedonist.
I love nights full of sleeplessness.

I call suffering my brother. I love him like my mother.
We look out for each other, we'd die for one another.
I fight, I brawl, I feind for this.
I scrape, I crawl, I bleed for this.

-Tyler Cassidy