Death of the First-Born Tear.

Condensation, a blackness forming..
Fog window stained, red emotions pouring.
This woman with a smile overshrouds the pain,

And I feel myself fall into darkness again.

Horizon weary, sorrow drunk...
Into abyss, heart has sunk...
For this dull hour, may tempation never rise...
Let the bones gently break of the dream who cries.

My most immoral year, a season of guilt...
Lost in opression.
With hope left to wilt.
Endless sacrificial days...
A suicide of countless ways.

This, my most immoral year...
Come quickly, death of first born tears...
When I will never see beauty once more...

And the Reaper whispers, "Close the door."