Rehashed

My head never rests on my shoulders facing the sun.
 I struggle to walk.
 The burden of this guilt I hide from you is growing,
 You'll never know what it is.
 This is the kind of person I am,
 This is the kind of person I've turned into.
 I time of song, I am the kamikaze dreamer.
 Clog my own throat; Swallowed by color tortured sumber.
 Now flying high, I am the kamikaze dreamer.
 Gague out my eyes; Swallowed by color tortured slumber.
 It becomes harder to breathe or think clearly.
 Remorse instigates and overall of self loathing the older I get.
 So I'll rest my dead beat tongue, you'll dismiss me anyway.