May the storm
Drags every inch of hell out of me
Along with the dread of this stupid loneliness
Spin it along with all of the shadows,
of the lovers that went wrong

Let this storm
Cleanse all of the remains
The pile of the endless city
even the fields of flowers and butterflies
That i built for you and wipe it all clean
So i can grow a better one for myself

This storm will end soon
And when it does
you will be as good as dead
And when it does
All that is left of your sanctuary in me
Is rubble and dust