I fear not my own demons,
Nor the wrath of the storms.
I shiver not before His presence,
Nor His angels in legions or scores.
I mourn not at the shattered glass that beats,
Nor the pulsing wound that bleeds.
For into oblivion, my hert I threw,
The same heart that fell in love with you.
But in my oblivion, my heart still sings,
The requiem for th pain that clings,
In this body where my soul withers,
For in my past, I'm binded to linger,
Binded in shackles of guilt, doubt, and pain,
Suffering for eternity over and over again...
