For every poem you inspired...

If one man died, for every poem you helped me create, the pain, the anguish, the lusting to hate

Originate from my eyes of fear, you crushed me now I'm on tears

The saints row, shed us light, let us know, free me from myself, my posterity, my edge, my self notoriety

Every little blood drop, burns from my fear, tears from my eye, raining from the sky

Out side I see, it's soaking wet, inside I'm here beaten down, my death I make a bet

On the table I got the jack pot, rolling in the middle, my face I want to rott

I'm making bets betting on myself, betting for myself, against myself

Will he play the violin, as one of me says, will he stand the night, fall asleep loosing and weep

If one man died, every poem you inspired, the world would be lonely, and you the assassin as I never hired

One dead man, down in the middle of a field, one car crash a steering wheel he held, his skin burns to the bone embers melt

Left in the dark, I'm bleeding alone, how this, how could you, why me, what the hell

Loosing on my bet, beating down my shell, my skins, either way I wins

If one man died, for ever poem you inspired, I'm the assassin and pain I never hired

One man died...

One man died..

One man died.

For every painful poem you filled my head, drop me down full of lead