I keep seeing those images that are not yours
The sights of an apocalyps, not from this
World, they make me feel small, nothing
Make me witnessing my final deathkiss
Hearing a voice that keeps scratching in my head
Black cold wings flattering behind my eyes
Feeding with the sick thoughts and images in
My head, waiting for the time this soul dies
The touch of grasping limps, holding me down
Fighting is useless, feel the whip burn,
Pain in my back and shoulders, a cold breath
In my neck, no one sees this being yearn
Smelling the fresh sent of crimson blood
Hear the haunter laugh, tasting his
Victim’s female flesh, devour this little joy
I have left, raping me from my bliss
While I let these senses conquer my sane
I taste my warm liquid of life, crimson rain
Covering my being, my mouth placed on my
Wrist, trying to remove this eternal burning pain