The White Doll.

Flashing lights pass me by
the city gleams in sorrow
in this world an eye for an eye
only brings a blacker tomorrow.
I am the white doll
in a place of shadow and strife.

Murder echos in these streets,
staining my white red
to the death march and their beats
of something here wanting me dead.

And I know
there is no white god for the black mass;
there is no black god for the unrelented
there is a time that will come to pass
in which no heaven will have gone untempted.