Blaming global infection for the illness in him Little knowledge of the non-affection between him and his kin Old, grey, bitter, anxious and collapsed
Like a wallflower once blooming Withered to apparent death
Apparently he had no reason To harbour the trust He'd forsaken inside.
Apparently he left his reasons Forsaken the trust that harboured within
Blaming the guilt Crying the tears Torture the pain
Walk, I cannot walk For I am blind, blinded I am By the pitch of dark, so dark is it The narrow street, never ending narrow Clogs my throat Silently I try, Try to walk, blinded by the pitch The narrow darkness, clogs the street I am speechless I am speechless Fear puts a rush on my steps As I stare into the spinning depth The end is not near the sight that I am hoping for And all the light that paves the way for me Is the wish and will for the end to see The bright light is the end of the black light district