It's the devil's heartless play.
Letting the treasure island lay,
just within his dying glimpse,
whilst onboard his sinking ship.

What's drearier than a lonely sea,
is a golden isle one may never reach.
May he pray for the devil's pardon,
To blind him from the treasure island.

One's death is dirt and grit,
dark for one, yet the world is lit.
Unless you are whom one deemed unique,
wouldn't you know one's heart's weak.

Weaker than the body seems,
burning to ashtray, all the dreams.
Long does one wait for the devil's flood,
may he farewell to his flesh and blood.

If death is I have to face,
Such is God's disgrace.
My perish would be unsung,
For God, I'm gravely young.

The depression can't I hide,
Accompanying me till I died.
Long may you rule,
For God, my age is cruel.

Nothing would ever last,
Yet my life is what to be lost.
Passions are dried,
And dreams all died.

I dare not to be blessed,
Nor more time I request.
Seeing more would suffice,
After all, we will all pay the price.

For God, end me now.