Life will sometimes feel uncanny,
Weird and void of understanding,
Life will sometimes let me tell,
Be loveless, and will hurt like hell.

Love will sometimes feel so forceful,
Leaving you to face the cold,
In that time to be remorseful,
Is to really hate your soul.

Life will sometimes feel like falling,
To the endless pit that's calling,
All those who betrayed their wrath,
Downwards surely strays their path,

Love will sometimes be disgusting,
You will sacrifice your dream,
For someone who is neither lasting,
Nor are fully who they seem.

Life will sometimes feel unchanging,
And all the joy in it like fading,
But no matter where you turn,
Wrath should always brightly burn.

One morning, down a lonely path,
Wandered two friends, Me, and Death.
One morning while the sun did rise,
Walked the path my friend and I.

An came we across a man,
Whose life was sad, whose life was cruel,
And came we to understand,
Man was but a poor, poor fool.

And came we across a horse,
Whose riding days have long since passed,
And came we on our morning course,
To shame the first and pity the last.

To all things this might be true.
You shame me, I pity you.

And came we across a crow,
While the sun behind did shine,
And blackened it the early glow,
Yet it's darkness was divine,

And came we across a sheep,
In its curly coat ov wool,
And as is likely to repeat,
Sheep was also but a fool.

To all things this I might say,
You block the path, I fly away.

And time to choose came all too soon,
Which ov them to take with us,
On our lonely path to noon,
Whose time here did really pass?

In the end we chose the man,
Or rather HE, he makes the rules,
He told me, as only death can:
I never learned to pity fools.

After him, He chose the sheep,
Grim reaper swung his fingers forth
And as blood ran, no man did weep,
Said He: cries are but for human sort.


His mercy did end to receive,
Neither white sheep nor the fool.
Neither stupid nor naive,
Are free from His grip cold and cruel.

To all things this must be true,
We're only sheep, both me and you.

One morning, down a lonely path,
Wandered two friends, Me, and Death,
As soon as the noon light shows,
Death will walk this path alone.

As I turn my head and look,
beyond the thin white curtain of the day,
The sun shines fair, but the road i took,
Through days it goes, *noir du jais.

And the hands got lost in waves by night,
The dawn revealed they could've prayed,
Another glance, that dreadful sight,
A glimpse of life, noir du jais.

Breath of sea salt the Wind will spread,
And his songs sing, What I dare not say,
Through clouds and cold, deep blue and dead,
lies lost hope, noir du jais.

And the leaves get blown beyond return,
The wind still hums the tune death plays,
On this grave still fire burns,
Undying flame, noir du jais.

I found a pretty apple tree and dug myself a grave,
In it I've left my body, words and a sad mind,
All those things in life to whom I were a slave,
All will in the end be gladly left behind.

On every face I see, the same old tired smile,
That always hides a riddle, a story or a myth,
Always full of secrets, always full of lies,
That turn around the smoke o'er the fire pits.

Through rainy eyes I see the dawning of the day,
I admire sun in its morning glory,
I feel its healing beams carrying me away,
And the final darkness- the end of my story.

I picked a snow white flower, and saw in it my death,
In every petal written the end to my pain,
I've crossed this cursed field the path to my last breath,
My soul thus has left me in the light of day.
I found a pretty apple tree and dug myself a grave.