A figure in the feeble light,
A woman dressed in black.
Her blue eyes shimmer through the cold mist.
What would you choose, a world full of love or one full of pain?
And with my eyes fixed on her black dress, I tell her the story of my sorrow and regrets.
I’ll always be choosing the world that hurts best. For what is left when all the pain is gone? And what would I hear if every sad song’s been sung?
With tears streaming down her face she hands me a bottle of self-loathing.
If you’re as lost as you want to make the world believe, you’ll have no trouble finishing this.
The bottle has remained half empty to this day.