Does thus not know of my sorrow?
Will this lead me out of my tomorrow?
It is said that entity is not without pain,
I care not for this that I have attained.
We run in a circumstance of madness
We fall into a pit of darkness,
Who will save thus?
Who will be willing to face the pain in the fuss?
A life is an empty promise.
A meaningless cavern of sadness.
With our crimson covered clothes,
Failing to escape the claws of the judging crows.
Soaked in salty rain.
We lose control of our shells
Falling prey to the feighned spells.
Oh God, will thus not help us flee?
For the crows have gone on a spree.
Oh God! I beg thus to reap,
What is left in this shell we keep.
This world,
It is of the mad,
And for the mad.
So God, I beg thus,
Reap our souls and spare the fuss.
