The cadaver of the red sun, the shadow of the bloody eye
The ire of a thousand thoughts, stifled by a million sighs;

An angst, against all bourgeoisie
Me, my own, for all to see;

A euphoria of pain, am I just the Reaper’s gain?
My voice too silent, in this bullet rain…
But then again…

Freed like the wind, in a moment of brutal glee,
Someone else thought, I had lived enough;
A growing chaos, screeching to a halt
When the sand runs out, when karma is a bluff…

My voice too silent, in this bullet rain…
But then again…

(*rest in peace, you honest soul…)