Through the deep torn rumble of fallen fear
stands someone’s young child of fragile heart.
With empty promises and broken dreams
their blood flows cold across shard glass.
Y
The record plays tunes of a comatose horror
that melts the ice slowly through their veins.
Silence seldom helps this savage pain I endure
and prison wouldn't have been my sanctuary.
Y
Now it's too late to weave a beam of hope
within this dark garden they call "Death"
Maybe beyond the horizon there is a place
that will allow me to find peace and happiness.
G
O
O
D
B
Y
E
Y
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