Lost inside, she searches within
The perfect bride tall, blonde and thin...

Flaming trees of golds and reds
Align the skies once more...

Delusion, fiasco,
From feathered cup...

If I wrote a suicide note,
It would probably be like this...

Blue is the cold,
the breeze...

Dreams,
Lie scattered...

I spit up Angina,
I smile the plague...

Terror embellished,
Eternal scorn...

Felonious villain,
Lathered in blood...

The end is nigh,
the task is done...

Blunt knives cut,
A dead plant seeds...

As life scrapes our souls up from the pavement of...
And entraps us in his cage of depression...