Angel Of Death (English)

On a sunday the first I was born sixty-eight.
I grew up ignored and treated with hate.

Enbraced by darkness and poison one day
my heart started changing to worse in some way.

Being a loner, friends came few, but were real.
Didn't earn them at all, mislearned how to feel.

Blinded by greed and called by false voices,
made a pact with the devil, started taking bad choices.

With a smile on my face the dark half became bigger.
Tried to bring it to end with my hand on the trigger.

Couldn't do it, was too hungry for life.
Instead cutted red flowers with my burning knife.

Was too selfish to realize,
that true friendship comes with a price.

Saw all precious souls dying.
My life's surrounded by dead;
they were already lost the first day that we met.

Death's like a pilgrim of mine,
and -even worse-
whomever I touch will be doomed by my curse.

Being Angel Of Death must be my fate.
I am a living dead...

Francis Craig 2005