whats wong with me me evrey thing i see and feel seems to explode in to a ball of self hate and biter rage is there eney thing left for me here in this world with out hope its like i die evrey night i feel dead im sick of the same old shit that piles its self up on my door srowndid in a room one windo a gutar for fuck sake i cant see the floor for all the shit that i cant be botherd to cleen up is this how im going to live my life hevey metel and the cach frase of cant be botherd is this how its going to play out all the times that iv tryed and fuck i tryed rely hard i dont know if i whant to be here no more nt even shure if i need to