'Mothers' tears, blood and pain, into this world we came, find your truth, and leave the same.'

Suicidal Fanaticism, obsessional characteristics of what is called extreme
Slit wrists and an anxious smile, but a few goals of which we dream
Our kingdom come, our lives undone
On earth, and in heaven...
Self-preservation, an obsolete instinct of cowardice fear
Thirsty darkness invade the veins, beautiful death, no restraint
Light headed, the soul shifts and breathes
Salvation is dead, living beneath the leaves
Willing prisoner, lacerated redemption, yet the flesh fears its grave
Wise soul, why does the master serve the slave?...
Our kingdom done, where death has won
On earth, and in heaven...
Failing truth and a flickering eye, crimson droplets of wonder, a grim goodbye
Eyes glittering a dying gold, in the wintery mists, a summer so cold

'Forge your truth on the ruins of a lie, with adamant faith and a lingering sigh. Dwell on times when life was young, an innocent smile, and an untrained tongue. Days gone by, for yesterday is tomorrow, and happiness but the path to sorrow...'

An obsession to bleed, homicidal savior, murder the womb and deny the seed
Open wounds cry tears of blood, life is vented, in the shifting mud
Suicidal Fanaticism, obsessional characteristics of which wise men dream
Streaming wrists and an anxious smile, but a few goals of what is misunderstood as extreme