Being happy, being sad, is there a difference between good and bad? Where do we go after we die? Do the sinners pay? Will the families cry? The love affairs that cause you pain, when you are the one to blame, silenced by the hard words of no more than a child, mother, father, the love is mild, and icy winds take under your wings, I will go to meet the king, stay in his words, under his arms, I know he'll never do me harm, the nights I have endured your pain, by playing along in your stupid game. All that happens weighs me down, tight around my shoulder blades that keep me steady, arms gone from loss of blood, may I be set to rest, maybe I should, after the pain and misery and death.

This is mine, my own fault, and not your time, so don't pretend to know how it feels to do the time, to make a deal, with the devil himself, he keeps your heart in a jar on the shelf, with his scythe he will carve your heart until it's too small to keep. It hurts to know you're sad and dark but I remember our time at the park, the day we kissed and the time you said goodbye. I'll always cry, for you and me, how happy we could be, living in the eternity of death. I miss you. Being happy, being sad. Really... Is there a difference? Do they even exist? This is my time, my rhyme, my eternal misery.