I walk the streets of pain, I see
broken glass of death.
I weep into the night, as I try to
find a place to lay my head.
Death walks with our souls.
Sickness seeps into our lungs.
We have nowhere to go,but the
streets of death.
Lying on this cold damp ground trying
to sleep.
I felt pain upon my chest, my heart began
to beat slowly.
I felt warmth seep down my chest to my waist, not
knowing what was happening.
I was dying a slow death.
My chest was sliced open with the broken glass that
layed upon my lap.
No help, no souls walked by, for I am dead.
Now I am death upon these streets of pain.
I took this, for I am the dead that walks with
your souls.
