Sometimes I feel so old,
So old, as if my existence is already covered with mold.
So old, as if my body is emptied so well,
That all I'm left with is just a shell.
Hopelessly crawling thru the last days of my life,
Eagerly waiting for death's sharp knife.
Oh yes, it's so close, I can fill it in my veins,
So close to the freedom from lifes restrains.