Take this sword from my hands
Take this dagger away from me
Take me to my grave

I feel sick, this sudden plague
Fear and despair cascade
Intertwining between two strands
Of faith and unholy hate

If you see me, the real me,
You’ll see holes and needles
Poking and stabbing my broken heart
And this is the story that I
Will carry on forever on my shoulder

I long to be free from this
Frail state of mind
Where sanity and madness
Corrupted and enraged my soul
Agitated by repressed emotions
I'm starting to bleed my hands

And if one day I dig the vessels too deep
I wonder if I am fully ready
To meet my maker
And live underneath the ground
Before we wake up once again
To count our sins and collect our deeds
Maybe by then, I shall present these testaments
In all fairness, will it be of justice
If I put myself to rest just to escape
the crippling terror, torturing my thoughts?

I beg thy forgiveness, my sincerest apologies
But I’m hurting, and this may be the only end
So please, tell me how
How do I know if I die tonight
Will I carry this remorse to my grave?