Though time's run on past midnight
And I watch the clock breathe slowly
I lay robbed of peaceful sleep in the now.
Though tomorrow comes storming
With the sun piercing horizon's edge,
My bloodshot eyes remain untamed.
Yet it is not the bluntness of the cold
That possesses my quiet rapture
Nor the anxiety of excitement or fear
Past memories haunt my wake dreams
And the torment of future possibilities.
Let the living torture let it be, let it be
Why do my eyes burn inside like embers,
Hollowed like a man without his sanity
My heart now bleeds, so sweet torture,
End me now before our ends must meet
And let it be, let it be.
