Do we not to death succumb at the waking of the morn
When light does shine and moons do run
Are we all but softly numb?

But weak are we, our Towers do come down on us
As chatter picks its victim, Gabriel has won.

God if you can hear me, though god is more appropriate,
Do send your choir faster now, this life is not as fun

Imagine this, go do that, our life is but a task
When fulfilled with pure impurities, we wrap our brains around it
As guts spill to the floor

Oh god I don't know where you hide, or heavens, or the hell, but riddle me an easy life in my coming days
This one is so boring

What heaven do we seek, when all we know is hell?
When life is truthfully a lie, is death a painful truth?