There's an ache in the stain,
A subtle sense of this pain,
That picks at a part,
That by chance is my heart.

It ticks time by blood,
The red reminder,
That for all the world,
Death is sweet and kinder.

I am a dying man,
In a dying world,
A cold and bitter thing,
Without one girl.

Who's eyes have drifted,
And her love followed suit,
And all my affection that rang so soundly,
Has since fallen mute.

And I am a stain unto myself,
And symbol of shame,
Who fears his own stabilities,
Who bears all the blame.

Mea culpa fell from his lips,
His sorrow seeped and slipped,
From the steels cold kiss,
Did that girl he ever miss,
Mea culpa from his lips,
His life seeped and slipped,
Mea culpa from his lips.