Sullen fog and ash haunt my life....
There's too much pain, even for my knife....
The pain I feel is no longer curt....
But that doesn't change the amount my mind hurts....
Even if my head is filled with agony....
It still somehow relives my life, chronologically....
A shattered young man, plagued by his memories....
That's who I am, hurt by past enemies....
I sit here, with nothing but an ebon, broken heart....
You want to hear my problems? Where should I start....
The waves of slow sadness overtake my brain....
And I seek for a way to say goodbye to the pain....
Driven by a small, glinted false hope....
A way to feel better, a way to cope....
I sit in the attic, let the gas take me over....
And I fall into sleep. I'll awaken no longer.
