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Absence of color looming over dead seas

Birds without wings in a forest with no trees

Barron surroundings are all I can see

This unbridled darkness is following me

Seething, malnourished, and vengeful

My hate knows no bounds

Tattered, diseased, and self-loathsome

Yet I pray for my soul to be found

He comes to me, or maybe it’s she

From infertile molten sand

An entity of night formerly of light

To extend its obliging hand

Please, oh please, I can’t fucking breath

The smell is so putrid; my brain, it is boiling

Human, you beg for a finale bliss

You’re lost and benevolence won’t spare you a kiss

All I have hope for is an end so quick

I’m burning inside feeling faithless and sick

An angel you plead for your soul to quell

Alas: I am the president of hell

Ashes of dust o’er the bank’s frothy sheen

Birds without beaks and no feathers to preen

The wilt of the flower with a frost-bitten wreath

In just a few moments, you’ll finally be free