I lay in bed,
bathed in starlight.
Long is this night,
endless,
like the end of days.

I lie alone,
burried in dirt,
locked within a box.

They say your born alone and you die alone,
it seems now that they are right,
it is pointless to fight the reasoning.

The bottle of Vodka is empty,
my Angel has flown away from me.
Dead flowers and Angel-Feathers atop my grave,
the shards of glass digging in all the more deeper.

I feel numb,
detached from my body.
Has the Reaper finally come to end my suffering?

The sun is setting, that I can feel,
tonight I pray for the Reaper to come...
Better he take me than the hells surrounding me...
Tonight is my last Valentines Day... Tonight I Decay in my grave...

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