In this deathbed made of foul loathe and greed,
I embrace myself in heaven's creed,
wherein heaven is the cause of my severe pain and anger,
that never ends in a railway of prideful measure
Life was such a mess indeed,
and it ended with its foul breed,
but dear someone with its faithful need,
will it ever come a day that it will heed?
they say, love's a little bit miserable,
A little bit of fun, and of mispleasure,
but one thing's for sure, I know,
In my little deathbed full of sorrow, illness and greed,
It will never come, love, never indeed.
