Saint of Killers

A Ray of light on your memory
will show you
You're not the kind of creature
they think you are
When you pass through
some darkness
You leave youth behind yo
uLike a serpent gets rid
of its bark

Down with joy under consent
of nature
Up with your duties,
no more time for cold feet
There's no other truth
but your own
You're full of an
irrational ache to be

The haunting that rides
the twilight
The whispering undead spitfire
Something more
truthfully heartless
Than people's half-life
emptiness
And if one day a new chance
you receive
Then you could waste it
just the way they did