If I had all the answers to the World's many questions, I'd probably live a perfect life,
And often than more times, I wish to fall into a coma to wake up in a next life, not bruised to the death of a Cold Knife.

As my own shadows of past would haunt me like a ghost still lost in the house of my heart,
I pray to die to self for a new rebirth,  rather to start a fresh, a fresh restart.

And O' on me how I've pushed so many away and shut myself in my own darkness.
And O' on how I've slowly gone numb in indulgement of regrets and ugliness.

May some one rescue me from this old existence, its time for it to die out.
Dear Lord help me , how I beg and cry out.

Existence...