Chapter 4 A Song for My Sorrow

Throw of the scent

To seace the chase of life

When one with death no light in sight

I have been told that before the end

The angels will come, angels will come

Years has taken the best out of me

The sharpest edge

Endless burdensome journey without a rest

Murder in cold blood instead of a suicide

This crime is justified

I have killed myself so many times

That for me wihtout a doubt

Heaven is denyed

I am here, I am waiting, In silence

With no fear of dying

No more bleeding inside

Waiting for the black sun to rise