This life provides no sympathy for me
I need to make peace with my mortality
Dethroned, cast out on the songs our fathers raised
In beds with thieves, rejoice no heroes praised

Ink, heart, blood, pen
Honesty made a martyr of me
For what is at stake, watch it burn

Tear arms sycophants, pouring down every plague
Tyrants and spores in rapture salvation is made
The ghost of truth held in clandestine labs
Strike one, strike two, this misery is all I have

What I am, is falling away, my sanity is a nightshade

Say it once, say it again, like the ink in my heart,
Like the blood in this pen