The wind takes a deceitful turn,
Somewhere by the side of the road,
Leading me to the queen of fate,
Seated in comfort in her eternal abode!
I pay her with more than my dying soul,
To choose the cross I always desired.
A cross of gold, a cross of roses,
Not this old wooden cross of which I am tired.
But gold was too heavy on my deformed shoulders,
And the thorns on roses tore at my flesh.
My mind could find no soul for refuge!
The spirit of sorrow in me refreshed!
In the one-eyed world, my damned fate,
Served as fodder for scavenging beasts,
My thoughts leaked down my drying skin,
Solace and comfort I could hope for the least!
These tears of fire, I treasure to cherish,
For they are dear to my two-piece heart!
Regret I befriend, repentance I cuddle,
They regain my soul, or at least a part.
I call on hope to be my companion,
And enter the faith of death and more.
The streams of love I find in the wind,
For I am a wanderer in this world’s corridors!
Screamjack
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