One Thousand Thorns
I feel as if I've swollowed one thousand thorns,
And they're scraping out my throat, as I'm falling to one knee,
And they're stabbing at my heart, like the stinging of a bee,
And they're slicing up my lungs, while I'm screaming out a plea.
The pain is as I've hurt someone dearest to me.
I feel as if I've treaded one thousand miles,
And the path was made of spikes, that were carving up my soles,
And the ground was red with blood, as my empty veins turn cold,
And the skies were cloudy dim, just like dreams that satan's sold.
The pain is as I've hurt a special friend of old.
I feel as if I've suffered one thousand deaths,
And the gates of heaven closed, every single waited time,
And the angels sat and laughed, at misfortunes of my kind,
And the devils welcome grin, becomes a soon familiar sign.
The pain is as I've hurt the only love of mine.
I know not what I do for at the time it seemed right,
But clearly wrong I see it now my wish is not to fight.
Instead to love and frollick with the joy of fading night.
The pain is as I've hurt a perfect love with senseless plight.