Life In A Box

It seems to be cold in here, inside the empty head of you, the end of you.
When you speak, your pink, pink pout spouts out poison, and without a doubt they believe in you...
idiots, well I know, yes I know what this is about.
I have most definetly figured you out, behind your vile smile there is more teeth than I can count and a pair of hours to go with your lying grin.