What?

Imagine there's a place.
Where you can run away.
Escape into oblivion.
A place of your own creation.
Where no one hurts you.
Because of the excessive inhalation.

"End of passion play,
Crumbling away.
Im your source of self-destruction.
Veins that pump with fear.
Sucking darkest clear.
Leading on your deaths construction.

...

Chop your breakfast on a mirror."
-Metallica