Merry Go 'Round

And I go
and 'round
in this wicked
merry go 'round.
Its pace is slow.
Like something
which don't want
to stay,
but don't want to go.
It stamped me with a blur
of blood in the neck.
And my destiny
is now evilly sure.
It's round.
And flat.

And I can't stop.
I just can't
And I don't want to go.
But there is a flow
and 'round.
And there is no way out
from this vicious
merry go 'round.
'Cause it goes
and fucking 'round.
Every fucking night.
Not happy enough to laugh.
Not sad enough to cry.

And the buildings
remind me,
while I go
and 'round,
that everything falls off.
And the city lights
remind me
that everything
turns off.
And the streets
that leads my bones
always remind me
that I don't feel at home

And everything is fading
while I go 'round
and 'round.
The gasoline.
The cigarettes.
The money.
The night.
The time.
The body.
The sanity.
But something stands
hiding in a lair
that anyone found.
A demon of the night.
This fucking
merry go 'round.