Chapter 4: A Song For My Sorrow

Throw of the scent To seize the chase of life When one with death no light in sight I have been told that before the end The angels will come, angels will come Years has taken the best out of me The sharpest edge Endless burdensome journey without a rest Murder in cold blood instead of a suicide This crime is justified I have killed myself so many times That for me without a doubt Heaven is denied I am here, I am waiting, In silence With no fear of dying No more bleeding inside Waiting for the black sun to rise