When darkness falls and you can't lift the veil,
Your weakness grows in every detail;
Collapsing upon your own weight,
Self-destruction is deemed to be your fate.
Pity and loathsome hatred permeates,
A man is not a man in such restraints;
But these shackles are real, quite secure,
When you can't let go of the memories of her.
Such a sentimentalist, such an imbecile,
Playing the fool's game, thinking it's fixable;
Such depleted energy, a heart gone to waste,
Dreaming of another time and another place.
