It's half past two, I turn on the lights,
Drag myself to another room to wail my sorrows,
I let myself fall on the ground, I see my reflection, it's happy how I couldn't recognise it a few hours ago,
Now he is there again, everything I have been before, the images stuck in my head haunting me again and I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul and each time the oceans drive
me to the shores, I row back and drown again.
So I wear this self imposed crown of thorns,
Waiting to be crucified but here you are again
Your cold grip slips between my skin again,
We've known each other for so long now yet every time you touch me, it feels fresh and relentless;
Now I die again between the lost voids that await to consume my soul, please eat until your gluttony fufills;
Time passes like haze in an unrecognisable morning,
I know I've lost but I can't quite to seem grasp what it was that died, happiness feels like a myth again, like a stranger in a flea market you'd swear you know;
A part of me wishes again to leave to where no wanderer returns, among the stars, forever forgetten;
These scars and this broken travesty of meat and bones will wither and I hope to never yield life again.
But I will wait for your touch, an awakening, a redemption non transient and established.
Maybe it shall come and most likely it won't,
We shall see, we shall see then we won't no more.