You, the shepherd, guiding with gentle hand,
You, the abattoir, where destinies are planned.
You, the quiet, serene in your might,
You, the roaring sea, in the still of the night.

And I, your dulcet lamb, innocent and meek,
Trusting in your guidance, so pure and yet so bleak.
Unaware, I followed, to the slaughter's door,
Where you would claim all, leaving nothing more.

My heart, my soul, the essence of my being,
Strung upon your thread, like a puppet on a stage,
Only to be severed, in love's bitter cage.

As I lay, upon the cold, silent floor, I found solace in knowing, I was no more. For in that cold sweet moment, in the stillness profound, I embraced my fate, upon holy ground.

Watching the crimson from my flesh and bones bathe the floor-like soil welcoming rain after a year of thirst. And now, as my blood mingles with the earth, each drop a prayer of life, in death's quiet mirth.

In the labyrinth of self, I wander alone,
Seeking the essence of who I've known.
Yet she eludes me, in shadows unseen,
And I, a lost soul, where have I been?
Oh, where is she, the one I've known?
And where have I gone, in shadows thrown?

If God's love was true in its purest form and he truly had grace I would not find myself in this place.

Death he follows me wherever I go.
Wether it be in the depths of the forest
Or the deepest of seas death he follows me wherever I go.
He follows me in my dreams painted with the face of an angel.
As we dance on the dirt of the earth, death he follows me wherever I go.
He follows me into the darkness and covers me with sadness, I tell him I don’t want him while he screams that he loves me death he follows me wherever I go.
He lays next to me as I wake and sings songs of the days to come, death he follows me wherever I go.
He wraps his arms around my body and bores his fingers in my soul, death he follows me wherever I go.
He whispers in my ear when I try to speak and wraps his hands around my throat death he follows me wherever I go.
He lays on top of me as I sleep running his wicked finger down my body death he follows me wherever I go.
He pushed himself into my life and I fell in love with him. Death I follow him wherever he goes.

What is love
Nothing but a myth of the mind
It is the fault of Cupid and his kind
That this love is so hard to find.
It is not within the soul body nor mind
When I hear of Cupid I think of a true mastermind.
We roam the world looking for it without realising we are blind 
He shot us with his ***** arrow and turned us into mankind.

Gold on his fingertips
His fingertips thus basked in gold
Gold all beneath his shirt
A golden chain to hide the hurt
Gold all between my hips
A golden flower now its his