Live through pain

Of all here, sitting on the edge of a crooked chair
With my fingertips creeping over my head
Blood stuck between my fingernails, and blood in my hair
Thinking not of anything but my emotions being fed

I know that in every essence of pain that I feel
I cannot decline that in contentment, pain is real
Although I appear well suited, mild mannered and fine
I feel like Judas sipping on the last supper wine

And restless nights on my ceiling I stare
Open minded force themselves to creep in
Of people dragging themselves through mud, skin bare
Realing how, I, cannot win

But seeking millions of lights to fill a room
And to see in reflections, the one at peace with himself
To erupt out of the dark side of the moon
And confess to what I feel to know is real