Blood from you hands does spill a papercut from the dollar bill. We will all die trying to hide from the conscience that builds and eats us alive.  So selfish so self-proclaimed I'm left secluded by this blame - that you passed I'm left below it's scarred my life and your free to go. Trapped in a room painted in red. No one else cares and nothing else to say. The need, the greed of everything fucking thing.