A slow aching, bled dry of pain

The pace of life sedates the sane

Lure me into the fury of absence

Let my train of thoughts collide

In a trance of confidence

Stirring up, I breathe cyanide

Drawn in my horns, a stabwound slow-dance

Holding on to a dog's fair chance

A slow aching, bled dry of pain

The pace of life sedates the sane

I myself, I am a cold element

But I contain a living flame

Fading in, fading out

Last visit for a long time

While a legend lingers

We pine away, into clime

The wish is father to the thought

The thought is father to the truth

Ignite the imagination and take it far away

I grieve over things that end

Nothing in line to succeed them

They become a part

Of the horrors I hold in my heart

Neatly pealed all layers off

Searching a stain to expose

Lay bare imperfection

Grow aversion, then dispose

Now your self is bare

In an instant flare

If you have tears

Cry elsewhere