• Black winter nights
    Fills my heart with lifeless lungs
    Beating to a pace of none.

    Lying there on the cold hard floor,
    All senses without meaning.
    Rocking back and forth- a wooden door.
    My head on the other end, Bleeding.

    Receiving now,
    These undying blows
    One comes to dream,
    Everything he knows.

    Happy is but a word;
    Pain is the life we live;
    Love is death within the bird;
    Hate is everything we give.

    We go through many feelings, day by day.
    But the one that is right, who is to say?
    Play them through, one by one.
    In the end, is but a gun.

    The joy the winter brings
    Is only a sorrow filled heart
    As we play our broken part.