IRC-Galleria

She was no longer precious to me
I guess my hate grew much stronger than my love for her ever did
(I was) so tired of chasing that person who made me feel loved
and as we were embracing I cut and spilt the dearest blood

I'm praying for her soul as this blood on my hands stains me whole

You were my life, from you I fed of
And now parted by knife - the suicide of our love
So callous and frigid was that stillborn soul
yet no other half could ever make me whole

You promised: "'til death do us part", and then you made a stone of my heart
And with the last rays of the setting sun the loveless pulse fades away
No more beating as one, no longer burns the flame

This truly happened.