I have drawn a little picture, a shapeless image of existence. Let us destroy the evidence of what once was. On my way down to the shores of decay, I've been wasting my time with a vision of this everlasting day, and my body was passing away. Something's got to change, inside and outside, in another world, with another sun, under a different sky. I try to cut my arms and feel no pain for I don't exist: I'm as dead as my veins are dry. On my way down to a new form of light, I've been burning my eyes like an insect I'll be flying tonight, waiting for a new story to start. I cannot breathe any longer the poison of a reality I have lost. I will forget my name and rise from the ashes of a past life. On my way back to the place I came from, I realised it was much too late and everything then was gone with the irony of fate: I was made of hate. On my way down to the shores of decay, I've been wasting my time but I do not care anymore today, for I have become something else.