Your thoughts are simple
 You scream it out
 Your expression is grim you
 Dont have to be loud
 But one day [bad word]  You just can't avoid
 Your thougts get assuming
 Your fingers adroit

 Ref.
 muscles reaching the line of pain
 sending memories in holy brain
 your own deception appears as [bad word]  paves the way for the absent clue

 You build a weapon-thing
 that should free your mind
 So that would grow two wings
 On your own behind

 In the margin of madness
 You don't realize
 That things are blest
 Which you criticize
 That the world is colorful
 Which you see in grey
 And the men aren't [bad word]  That you see every day