I got a story, a story to tell.

About a long road

back from a sory of hell

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 destruction

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 destruction.

I'm on my way home.