• You told me to go to Hell
    I told you I'd meet you there.
    You informed that you were sorry, or something.
    I forgave
    only to get another seven slaps to the face.
    You promised you'd love, you'd be nice.
    Is that what you call this?
    Pulling away?
    I'm sick of this abusive compulsive relationship.
    Damn you, mother ********.
    I'll see you in Hell, for sure.
    We can hide from the light under that telltale smog of
    sorrow and sloth

    Where I can beat the ******** out of you
    and not have to worry about saving you from yourself.