Sometimes I feel, long ago life took the last breath from me Life itself, the grand enemy The white bride of wretched death, did guide me through gardens grey The fruit of which, would only fall to rot away Amidst such vast gardens, even the sun itself doth seem so pallid And the once glorious moon, its pallor so unhallowed Seven statues of saddened stance Perhaps the craft of a man still sadder Fallen leaves of the thrice dead oak A morbid portrayal of a once grand majesty What would one tear filled glimpse stand to reveal? The subtle fragrance perhaps? ...of a bloody wretched death! Up on his grey green throne Stained with the horror of a thousand bloodied suicides Sate the Suicide Choir Kneel before the Suicide Choir... Be judged by your suicidal desire...