Everything runs out in time
It's a debate on how we get there
So long as it's done without a care
Then life was worth its crimes
And your hand will pass in mine

This pen I swing as a claymore
To ward off sinking erosion
To etch out my brain's implosion
And voyage through the door
Where I will lay forever more

Prithee, I pray, no more attention
Hold your lust for the preacher
Become a wistful creature
Drawn on the strings of earthly tension
Where pain is of no mention