When I measure my worth I find my soul is weak and poor, I stumble through my house and leave my jacket by the door.

I sit and think and contemplate about my life gone wrong. I know not many that would even care to hear my songs.

I stand up slowly and I raise my arms up to my side, the shadows are my partners as I hum, and dance, and slide.

The lonely song I sing is not mine, not mine alone...

...I know that somewhere out there is a soul without a home.

Well the preacher from Sunday, will he love you come Monday? Will he turn up his nose to your work stained clothes? Will he sit on that pile of rising tithe? Will he cackle and laugh as you wriggle and writhe?

To see greed in the eyes of someone you trust. To see greed in the eyes of someone you trust.

Well your neighbor from Sunday, will he like you come Monday? Will he envy your life, or maybe covet your wife? Will he pray for your death and maybe wring you of breath? Maybe see you down to your eternal rest.

To see hate in the eyes of your only friend. To see hate the eyes of your only friend.

Well your family on Sunday, are they proud come Monday? Will they call you disloyal if you don't bend your knee? Are you rooted so deep into that family tree? Are you their faithful slave for eternity?

To see shame in the eyes of the ones you love. To see shame in the eyes of the ones you love.

With their pompous grin, they say you're tainted with sin. They say The Holy Gates won't ever let you in.

With a Bible in hand, you start to take a stand. Then you finally found out, that there's no room for doubt. So you tear up the roots of that family tree, then you string up the fruit for all the world to see.

Well your neighbor from Monday, will he make it to Sunday? Will he bleed like slab when you've taken your stab? Will he fall to dirt as he grips on your shirt? Will he slowly pass, as you carve your path?

Well, you lay eyes on the preacher as you burst through the door. He's always counting his cash, forever hungry for more. Is he ready to fly to the kingdom on high, or maybe fall down the pit where blazing fires are lit.

Well the lawman on Monday, says you're hanging on Sunday. And you sit there and laugh with eyes as vacant as glass. You turn the page of your book to give it one last look.

Then use your last breath pray on God's Holy day.

"Hmm...

...let us see...

...I 'like' my favorite foods. I 'like' playing games with my friends. I 'like' figuring out puzzles.

As you know, there is a vast difference between liking something and loving something.

I love my Father, I love my Mother, I love video games, I love music, I love poetry, I love sunsets, I love fighting, I love researching, I love winning...

...but do I love you? That depends...

...you see, above all these other things that I love, I love you so, so, so, so much MORE than any of them.

So, it's either that what I feel for you is something BEYOND love...

...or because of you, you have changed my definition of love.

So, do I like you? No.

Do I love you?

More than you could ever know, more than I could ever express in unlimited eternities, more than can be put into words, more than can be heard through music, more than any creature that has ever existed has loved anything or anyone else, more than Jesus loved humanity, more than I love everything else, more than Stephen Hawking loved science, more than Kanye loves Kanye...

...is this unearthly, ethereal, unnatural, ungodly, powerful, terrifying, omnipresent feeling "love"?

No, it is much more than that, so much MORE.

It is more than either of us can understand. For if I were a man of faith, I would believe that us loving one another is not only proof that God exists...

...but that I am his successor, for only Gods that have shed the mortal coil can be as happy as I am with you..."

As cold wind blows, the sinner he knows that Archon light is coming.

The sinner he cries for all of his lies, for now quickly he's running.

The Archon light is close behind as the sinner knows not where he is going. The Archon light is on his neck and shows no sign of slowing.

Like a boat at sea in a raging storm, the sinner is frantically rowing. The Archon speaks "These are the sins you're sewing".

At last a white blade is raised on high, the sinner has been stopped.

The blade is clean despite the neck of the sinner it had chopped.

Going through the daily changes, I feel the slip of mental ranges.

I beg the devils to stop what they're doin', for soon I may lie cold and in ruin.

The sweet smell of blood that lingers around, I feel the crawl of my thorned crown.

Tell all these demons to stop what they're doin', and send mercy to this soul who lies so in ruin.

Striving and toiling all my life, my only solace was a heartless knife.

Days and days spent bathed in blood, only for sad thoughts to come and flood.

Eaten by guilt my soul weighs heavy, anger rages forth from a broken levee.

Years spent searching for a kindly ear, but no one near.

Like the sun in the sky, the waves of the sea, you mean so much to me.

And though the stars they shine the sky is so dark, I need not worry for you shine in my heart.

Stay with me and we'll be in our world of great love. Hold my hand and I'll show you a world above.

What you mean to me is greater than what sun means to flowers. In my chest because of you, I feel so full of power.

Life without you is a life without breath, I swear I'll hold you until my death.