The clock's hands fold,
I feel pulsing in my chest,
all the agony of one more day,
in this world of darkness.
Through my nostrils,
runs the smell of my own death,
printed on the grey sunday sky.
I kill myself... take my life...
In my last mourning I realize,
I've always been the nothing I feared becoming...
I feel pulsing in my chest,
all the agony of one more day,
in this world of darkness.
Through my nostrils,
runs the smell of my own death,
printed on the grey sunday sky.
I kill myself... take my life...
In my last mourning I realize,
I've always been the nothing I feared becoming...