I Am The Harbinger Of Death

Bloody wind of depression is calling
Sweeping absences in my inside
Torturer touch of every new day...

Died on your lips with a sick smile
The wet soul’s misty windows,
Unaware all your fucking sins,
Created flames cuting the dark by its dull knife
And surrounded world
Who can give my blood up,
Who can give my flame up,
Who can give my hate up..

There is no other sense that is more
Enterprising and sharp than pain

Watch my soul's suicide while its rising
Or glance of being whacked, being ceased
As if its a pain of autumn abandoned by winter
Speed death up for my happiness
Speed death up, which is within pitiful life
Exclaim me that you can deny me
Wellcome to the bleeding rain of misery, my love..