The Fangs of Heaven

the pain of losing her love

to the grave is beyond control

and the world has become such a dark cold place

since a coffin became her home

i know hat he can't hear me 6 feet below the earth

and i can't abide these bullshit lies or ressurrection or rebirth

if i called out your name

would it all be the same?

would no angels weep for me?

am i left here to bleed?

we thought we'd be "forever"

but you left me here alone

there's no solace to hide by your graveside

the autumn rain never felt so cold

now my soul is slowly fleeting, like a funeral percession down the line

no gregorian chants or hymnal rants

could hide the fact i'm dead inside

so i stand in the rain

and at the speed of pain

we devised a plan

this unity won't end

if she can't come back for me

then perhaps i should go to her

for only indeath can she be met

in world away from hurt

a cosmic loophole in gods plan

will put me back into her ars

and bastard saints will acknowledge that we can't be torn apart

how does one measure pain?

does it reach the bottom of a grave?

will she be waiting for me there?

anythings better than here

now the blade is to my wrist

and theres sweat upon my brow

and the metals cutting in

and the blood begins to flow

life begins to fade away

all colors are replaced with gray

and i fell as though i'm floating

but to where i can not say

now i hear voices begin to say

"you shouldn't have come this way"

"you'll never be more alone"

"you should have stayed where you belonged"

now as i regain my sight

and lose this gift of flight

i discover the irony in gods sick plan

any hop now is as bleak as night

all in all i should have known

the fangs of heaven bite straight to the soul

and as my angel sleeps in heaven

i'll rot in hell below