In my time of dying,
an angel called out to me.
My soul still wanders, lying,
the angel of death just cannot see.
Mercy, again, I plead for,
from a merciless king.
Cuts not healed yet yet from before,
gashed open with this thing.
This thing that you can still call love,
it's raped me once again.
My soul, looked down on from above,
for all my mortal sins.
taken aback by the vision,
of what I have become.
More self inflicted, painful incisions,
the deed is not yet done.
In my time of dying,
an angel called out to me.
My soul still wandeers, crying,
but I just cannot see.
 
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