mental suicide

The look in my stare suggested prayer, raw emotion was all to rare cause the devil was in the mist of the air. What my generation needs is new breathe, exhaling all the drugs & sex and rebelling, remembering that we can dream big like thee reverend. I'm sick of waking up every morning playing Russian roulette, one two three four bullets, pain, happiness, depression, anxiety I pull it. I make my choices you make yours, good & evil thats for you to decide as I continue my never ending game of mental suicide.