Stricken

Sitting in this cold room lights burning my eyes.

Can't even Breathe-I see the pain of my enemies as they cling to life.

The streets are lonely an painted with innocent blood that's been spilled.

One man's pain is another mans pleasure,
One man's trash is the next's one's treasure.

They say that the music influences us to put our enemies in a box.

If you rock the wrong colors watch the gates of hell unlock.

Like an addict first pulled off his addiction
you've been stricken as your blood starts to thicken