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