Nutshell Virgin Steele

We chase misprinted lies
We trace the path of time
And yet I fight, yet I fight
This battle all alone
No one to cry to
No place to call home

My gift of self is raped
My privacy is raked
And yet I find, yet I find
Repeating in my head
If I can't be my own
I’d feel better dead

You have murdered me... Shotgun... shotgun...