The night's song is what I see

Emptiness and apathy,

The key to it's psychopathy

Fulfillment never found in me

Remains a boiling mistery.

But anywhere I try to be

I find myself in misery,

I'm right next to you in the cemetery

You're dead even in my memory

And you're staring back at me

Your putrid eye, the color of green pea,

Fell from an imaginary cotton tree

Cooked in medium heat and served with tea.

So please, my friend,

Please help me,

What am I supposed to choose?

Life singing me putrid purity blues?

Or death reciting painful poetry?

Reality is hurting me and you

It's better if I just go now

I have to listen to my library,

The thousand faces of mortality

Because to reach this afflictive symphony

I'll have to kill what's inside of me.

So please, my friend,

Please, help me one more time,

Should I choose an eternity of pain?

Or revoke the chance to waste myself again?