A piece of the price of pain
And the price of a piece of hatred
Highness, I bow to nobody
But I kneel to a body of water and blood
And if the antidote is not in your hands, then I don't wish to hold them, and if it only means the pain
will wipe away what's left of me, then I'll pay the price of all the hatred in the world
For none can contend with he beating of a rock inside an
Place those empty hands against my chest
And you will feel the night.
The nights I myself battle! Now trapped inside me.
How ironic my life has become!
And I medicate and medicate and medicate
In an attempt to kill the wretchedly personal night
To finally burst forth in brilliant day
But my eyes are still black at the center
So this storm isn't over