Lay my head upon the sill
Thunder telling bitter lies
About that look on your face, once again
It's there, like blood on my hands,
And from the corner of my eye
You drown in your indifference

Today is another bitter pill
And a horrible excuse for trying
Sometimes I hate this place, the way you are
Rotten dust and all

Sometimes, I wish I would I will burn it down

Swallow this down, what a thrill
A miserable excuse for trying
Why bother, when the thunder beats me down
When the rain washes away my pity
And takes the fire that will set me free with it

I hate this place, with you,
And sometimes, I wish I would I will burn it down.

Truth becomes a match
And wisdom is spark
courage is a cloy of smoke
And the flames will erase that look
That awful look

Sometimes I hate this place, with you
And sometimes, I wish I could I would I will burn it to the ground.

Penned by my hand on the 14th of Artificium, in the year 431 AD.