As my hair turned purple, and a cloud has grown over my head,
It rained from all sides as I roamed the trail ways of life,
While my bandages fell, my wounds bled,
The dripping seemed fitting, for my soul is paralyzed,
When distress knocked on my door, it kicked with a magnitude of remiss,
My face has changed like a screw forced in a hole,
Mashed in a way to be called a drill bit,
I don't approve for this spiritless stroll, but at least I know when my happiness is extinct.