At the end of the tunnel is a light;
It calls me and pulls me closer
With every step I take. It’s very bright.

They are not always right.
I have been called a loser.
I hear them on the other side of the light.

Good people, bad people what a sight.
The pain hurts, they laugh while I suffer;
A souls turns black, it was once so bright.

I travel all the time but only at night.
I don’t bleed but but my brain is killer;
The painful thoughts ruin my light.

The souls were once a beautiful sight.
People want to die but they don’t want to be a killer.
The sound of death calls, it dims the bright light.

The meadow turns out to be a beautiful sight.
Who is the person that pulled the trigger?