My body is a civil war, head and heart are captains both, what graceful gore, endured when trapped in the undergrowth, this fight’s unrest does none to calm, my veins tainted with broken solider’s dreams, and the land ravaged with useless holy psalms, because of this all, I’m tearing at the seams, it doesn’t matter who wins this twisted game, for I already know my wicked fate: my soul shall burn to ash and dust upon flame, and laid to rest on hell’s ruby gates.