Written by: Chris Garcia

Mentally disturbed,
I am,
Since I'm siting here,
With a pistol in my hand,
A pistol that will be soon,
Placed within my mouth,
Between my two cheecks,
Until its goes,
Making me fall back in my seat,
Making my soul fall into hell,
Instead of the heavens,
In which I seek,
Instead of the world,
In which god keeps,
Because my soul was also accompanied by,
The lies,
In which the devil weep.