So, here on my arms are marks, Marks I have made, With blades of my inverse self For messing up my body For making my temple a living sacrifice to my demons That here is my testament, that I may confess, That I stood on a bridge of dilemma For the demons of darkness, Cut out my heart Right out from my mouth With my blood tasting like corroded iron And the taste lingers on my tongue and soul for years That when I smile, I want to frown inside When I laugh, deep inside I want to cry Deep inside, I want to burn myself, Turn to ashes Die and be free For ashes are not dead men But bodies, flying in freedom.