Things I have done should never be told
I must write them down as I grow old
This part of me I must hide from you
You could not believe these things that I do
Just a regular guy, eat, drink and sleep
But like that cliche, still waters run deep
It's not really me who does these bad things
The voices inside make me a puppet on strings

On strings...

The nightmares I have of blood and pain
Haunt me each night and torture my brain
It was me but not me that did what I did
I know what awaits me, a coffin with a lid
You'll never understand how I went this far
Maybe after I'm gone they'll make me a star
Make a movie about me and the things I have done
With the moral just being: «Thank God he is gone!»

Society won't take any part of the blame
It's simpler for them just to call me insane
They'll keep asking themselves how I do what I do

Diary of a... diary of a... diary of a damaged brain
Diary of a... diary of a... diary of a damaged brain
Diary of a... diary of a... diary of a damaged brain
Diary of a... diary of a... diary of a damaged brain

I wish I could let you know who I am
I am forced to move on, to follow their plan
I need to be stopped before more people get hurt
I long for that final day, to rest in the dirt

Rest in the dirt...

Diary of a... diary of a... diary of a damaged brain
Diary of a... diary of a... diary of a damaged brain
Diary of a... diary of a... diary of a damaged brain
Diary of a... diary of a... diary of a damaged brain