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A short Ballad of Pain
What then is there left over of love
 Deceived and broken, filled with spite
 The pain is so thoughtlessly shoved
 Into you melancholy mind without a thought of what is right
 Body is trembling with the life of existence
 Breaking in every direction
 Creaking into the thoughtless essence
 Of all the pained lesions
 Destroying all but what is not
 Creating what never should have been
 To break you soul people have sought
 But when they see your bend
 They fall into a heap on the ground
 Of destruction of all
 But what is not is carried out by our blood lusting hounds
 With all the pain now being suffered, the arms against you fall

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