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Make my walk in given Sunday

Stare the floor with eyes of sadness

Blackened thoughts see no future

Tomorrow 's hopes packed in folder

Chorus

Walk on his own every bitter Sunday

End comes in cold stare now at me

All of his thoughts in useless wisdom

Drown mind fought and gain only lost



Wash away every single poem

Not a shoulder no one of them

Rising sadness , sweet denial

Search the one and call him lier

Bridge

Look the stranger as he falls

Opened mind getting closed

Ripping thoughts from his youth

Eternal torture self abuse

Feel the flesh and taste the blood

Charon awaits for his toast

The warm cold embrace the body

Really missing for nobody