Against the cold I do not feel,
I’m in a place where hearts don’t heal,
I’m in a world where I’m so alone,
A world where everything is made of stone,
A world where darkness shines so bright,
A fire burns but I can’t see the light,
I hear the voices all around,
The voices that can make no sound,
Against my neck I can feel their breathe,
The living sign of the darkest death,
I see the shadows on the ground,
Shadows are forming all around,
I hear a sound from far above,
The golden light from a turtle dove,
Sitting on top of a bleeding tree,
The only sign that I could be free,
The voices screem their soundless cries,
I see a face with blood red eyes,
It’s crimson fangs pierce my skin,
An image from a deadly sin.