Inside the emptiness of self, I sit longing for the answer to a question still unknown.
And inside this realm of sorrow, I weep with bitter tears because I am alone.
Sleep becomes a haze of visions; I wander toward the dimmest light.
Answers are spawned from hellish dreams; I see how I can make it right.
Walking this path of rotted corpses, I become another morbid manifestation.
With a dying rose held in my palm, I open myself to destructive desecration.
Open my bleeding soul to starlight, I take a razor in each of my hands.
There is only the need for vengeance; I must take it while I can.
For inside the eternity of myself, I sit waiting for the question to an answer I now know.
And inside this realm of retribution, I no longer weep for what I cannot hold.
Sleep becomes my only salvation, I stretch onward toward the night.
Answers are wrought of my own hatred, I just feel so right.
Walking this road of living spirits, I undergo another alteration.
With a blooming rose cupped in my palm, I allow myself a new motivation.
Open my raging soul to moonlight, I feel my weapons slice my hands.
The only answer for me is vengeance; I will take it because I can.