Woorden: Opeth. My Arms, Your Hearse. Credence.

Deserted again, you speak to me through the shadows
Walking in closed rooms using cold words
Captured by the night
The yearning escapes from my embrace

Strange silhouettes whisper your thoughts
Scream your sadness and they all turned away
Unable to face more of this death

Credence in my word
Written in dust, tainted by memories

I confess my hope, recognize my loneliness
Your laughter weeps the truth, push me into the corner
Confirming the epitaph of my soul
And displaying the once unknown karma