I've picked my last fight, it seems
Broken face
Shattered ribs
Splintered bones
Loosing blood, warmth, life
Pain is my constant companion, my lover, my being
We're both fading, fading, fading fast
The best things come in threes, don't they?
Mother, father, child
Waking, sleeping, dreaming
Birth, life, death
Now comes the darkness, the emptiness, the cold
Didn't the weatherman predict a storm today?
But isn't that the sun come out?
It's really beautiful today, isn't it?

h.f.m.