even on the brightest of days
there was darkness within my soul

the burning cold scythe whispers for
a paradise tomorrow and release from the
butterfly pain

everything cuts and the reaper has feeling
a once clinical mercenary tinged by the darkness that followed me
into hell and out
back and up
out and nowhere

death's regrets paints mercy on a face that wants none

so i tell him:

swing in the darkness
cut the air of oblivion

you'll find it hurts just as much
as the first time