CRUST 3

weirdly kind of groovy core start, then back to crust/grind shit
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liberation comes at a price
in our veins, and trust in our heart
that one centimetre rips us apart when we hardly meet them
send them a story in our hands, within these words they understand

the struggle, the fight, we'd rather be alright
it's all a little game that we choose to play in line
a solemn choking victim who seems doubtful in a mess
start to feel the pressure as you heat the stress

down with the life - you're pushing onto me
a sudden hidden victory as i give in to your needs
manifesting hatred that is building up inside
it's hard to feel pity when you're in the strife

suddenly a boiling pressure begins to unfold
as i'm trapped inside a deadly story that was once untold
the beating is so real i can't see or hide or feel
solidify a presence that i thought was fake

all of this frustration is now thriving in the cold
all these petty little games are starting to get really old
i know they're not my enemy it's just something i lack
to blur the line of fiction from a matter of fact