Walking down a path,
lying on the ground,
blood running out,
from the deep wound,
pain from the heart,
killing all that's warm,
now all is dark,
cold and dead.
Crying for relief,
from all that has happened,
smelling only death,
seeing only darkness,
no help from the living,
only contact with the dead,
concealed forever from,
the lonely world above.
Looking through a window,
nothing passes trough,
can't be seen or heared,
no one knows the truth,
always the observer,
all that can be known,
no one knows the difference,
while crying tears of blood. |
