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I got a story, a story to tell. About a long road back from a sory of hell I been flying almost every night. I been ready to burn and I been living to die. SO take a look, take a look in my eyes: Cause I got no remorse for all the hate that burns inside. Take a look at my suicide. Self destruction I know the streets can be so cold I know these streets can make you feel so cold. I've got this gun to my head all alone. Another bottle of pills almoste gone; My cigarette burns right trough my soul. I'm almoste home. And I'"ve seen: broken hearts and broken dreams like broken bodies. under the pale street lights tonight. I've seen the hate and yeah; I've heard the lies. So I turned my back and now I'm on the outside I know the streets can be so cold I'm almoste home. Self destruction. I'm on my way home.