The Weak-hearted are defiled by Modern World's Misery.
As Love is Dead, and buried Six Feet Under the Soil, No Empathy Remains.
The Only Kind of Compassion that has lasted, is the One from Above, wich lies way up in the Sky.
For I am a prisoner of my own Will, And I cannot be contained, nor can I be helped.
Love was Long ago, killed by her sister, Lust.
She Is All Apathy.
All Ruthless.
She Rules the Will.
Rules Mankind.
And So, The World with it.
Helplessness is what I live in, even when I don't realize it.
Laying down and sobbing, untill my bride comes for me.
And if She vanishes away, In Grief I Shall Live.
