Offer me
The long-sought death I've seen
So many times in dreams
Of endless vice and grief.
Nostalgic scent I feel
Is driving mad my wits.
My personal disease
Will make me into the memory.
The reminiscence of my
Life that full of slime
Will crush in two your skull
If you're the one who cry
Over the bed of dust
Becoming my own shrine,
But noone will revive
By tears flowed from your eyes.