Pulp Fiction

laying on the floor i've been here once before and i'm not proud of it misery comes today it's coming back my way and i want it to leave me doubtful you are the people where your anger run your sleep fate of those whos feet are slipping or to those whos eyes or to those whos eyes have seen to him the strength belongs the weak attempt his arms and show me my offence so look away from me becuase i can hardly see im hiding nothing doubtful you are the people where your anger run your sleep fate of those whos feet are slipping or to those whos eyes or to those whos eyes have seen