This curse, it loves me
Enchants my soul with a verse
Transforming this man, into a hearse
This embodiment like a steel breeze
Dragging forever and etching the walk
A signature that cannot talk
A race to the death, the first one loses
Like a cult gone awry, void of sadness
No capacity to cry
She sits there in the morning less gorge
Her heart black, torn with Holy guilt
The view askance with a demonic tilt
The slayer of love, bonds her will
Suffering and agony the only charges on the bill
She can’t stop; she will never get her fill