Through suffering, we found ourselves a home.

When I look in the mirror, I see a wolf staring back at me.
With my hands on the horns of the alter, before the death of myself.
I'd rather spend my time in this shed than in my room on my bed,
Thinking about death and the end.

I'm not there, but if I was it wouldn't be long before those ugly thoughts would could creep back into my head.
I would be found dead on a bloodstained bed.
Tragically young, the forgotten son.

I miss you like air under water, drowning in breaths of passion.
I cry tears of blood in my sleep, you're in my dreams most nights now.

There are no white knights, when chasing stability in bars.
Sometimes the only option is to break something fragile.

Like someone's heart.

Through suffering, we found ourselves a home.

When I look in the mirror, I see a wolf staring back at me.
With my hands on the horns of the alter, before the death of myself.
I'd rather spend my time in this shed than in my room on my bed,
Thinking about death and the end.

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