In the gallows a false hope glows, a hope of termination.
A hope that soon I will have reached my final destination.
A hope that this sadistic life will come to a true end,
and nothingness will be my one and only faithful friend.
There is no light, there is no dark, there is nothing to tell.
A hope to fade to nonexistence where all is at last well.
However, death is not the end of this eternal life.
The notion of life after death is my internal strife.
That somehow somewhere post-expiry could be greatly worse;
this is the fate to which I have been innately cursed.
When all I want is oblivion, eternal hibernation-
I realize it’s not over when you’re sentenced to damnation.
So when I have those fantasies of death, swift and primeval
I’m forced to wallow in my pain choosing the lesser of two evils.
There is no peace or solace in a razor blade,
things only get much worse after the black parade.