no more
the hole is black, there's thrashing winds
the hatred almost a shade of blue
the winds are red, it appears to be blood
the parts are a mangled mess
swirling in a whirlpool
a dagger in the chiseled skull, marked with pain
three spikes in the heart as he bangs in a fourth
the shrilling screams, the piercing screaches
the shades of grey, yellow, green and orange
the lifelike noises of a woman in agony
where does the scarlet colored blood come from
if her desperate soul is now dead
a lifetime of beatings, doesnt matter the nature
they wont rest for a thousand more years
in her tired, worn out,
just longing to be heard,
throbbing head
the hatred almost a shade of blue
the winds are red, it appears to be blood
the parts are a mangled mess
swirling in a whirlpool
a dagger in the chiseled skull, marked with pain
three spikes in the heart as he bangs in a fourth
the shrilling screams, the piercing screaches
the shades of grey, yellow, green and orange
the lifelike noises of a woman in agony
where does the scarlet colored blood come from
if her desperate soul is now dead
a lifetime of beatings, doesnt matter the nature
they wont rest for a thousand more years
in her tired, worn out,
just longing to be heard,
throbbing head
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