From where I stand I see nobody
but these papers forged by death itself
I quiver in terror
silence filled the room, I am deafened

I hold onto what is made by death
I walk, breath and stare at myself
thru the eyes of what sees everything
I sighed...

Voices in my head everywhere
thief of my slumber every night
sleepless I become, awake in the dark
to stare at nothingness, a habit it become

Faith matters no more
satiated by despair my desire is
the rim awaits me
I see hope in the irony

I gambled despite perilousness
salvation I begged for, save me I ought
something happened not
devoured by forlornness

A fool I am to believe
deceived by the majority
the rim awaits me
I hold, I think not, I wear…period