I got a story, a story to tell. 
About a long road 
back from a sory of [bad word] 
I been flying almost every night. 
I been ready to burn 
and I been living to die. 
SO take a look, take a look in my eyes: 
Cause I got no remorse for all the hate 
that burns inside. 
Take a look at my suicide. 
Self [bad word] 
I know the streets can be so cold 
I know these streets 
can make you feel so cold. 
I've got this gun to my head all alone. 
Another bottle of pills almoste gone; 
My cigarette burns 
right trough my soul. 
I'm almoste home. 
And I'"ve seen: 
broken hearts and broken dreams 
like broken bodies. 
under the pale street lights tonight. 
I've seen the hate and yeah; 
I've heard the lies. 
So I turned my back 
and now I'm on the outside 
I know the streets can be so cold 
I'm almoste home. 
Self [bad word]  
I'm on my way home