was i bewitched by the thin red line
and let it snip the silver twine
i stare in silence
that is mine
discomfort of my silent fear, so icy cold,
yet somehow seems to sear my soul
until the ache`s too much to bear,
as mortal life now disappears
to steal sweet youth before it turned to gold.
existence now is not what i was told;
wastelands of sorrow, i welcome all i receive
blood before tears, you will see
cold and redundant, i deserve everything i get
what joy, want for nothing
sweet rapture for i am nothing
desolation is a delicate thing