Stabbed with an icicle to tare me apart,
Fire held in my chest-flames at his wrist...

I’d sit in my room fiery but ever placid,
Wishing I knew a kindred shadow...

I am the autumn,
Boss of red and gold...

So it’s late once more,
Three? Four? I can’t tell for sure...

It issues from your lips
At the second of final despair...

Everything in your world has left you, you are...
There is no pain to compare...

Searching through the oceans
waves of people washing over me...

You think that I am a no one
Well perhaps im a no one, to you...

My worst nightmares coming true
Im trying to move on...

Let us look at it with logic,
Let us try to analyse it...