• Sometimes the world around us makes no sense
    And we spend all our years trying to convince
    Ourselves that we are real and God exist

    And yet we cannot leave this world behind
    We see all things are cold and things unkind
    We forge control and slowly lose our minds

    Life, it has no solemn use for us
    For sorting what is right and what is just
    Is much like finding who is right to trust

    Even in the sunlight there is sin
    Frightened of the demons closing in
    You hold your breath in hopes that darkness wins

    Our clothes are often drenched a bloody red
    For resting places coffins are our beds
    And everybody knows that we’re undead