I am just a servant of pain,the slave of life.Invisible to all,but my pain is always there.No one cares if the white butler disappearsBecause no one has the white as there favourite colour
I sit alonelistening to the musicAnd the pain in my heartthe music keeps playingthe pain is keeps goingWhen a disk is scratchedthen it wouldn'tplay the sameIf my heart is scratched,will it ever be the same?
Sleepless nights I lay in bed,Not wanting to close my eyes,just to see you there in the blackness of my dreams.Sure I can delete,your number,your photos,your texts.But how do I deleteYour face?Your voice?And our memories?So I can sleep a sleepless night,without seeing you.
The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing,The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying,And the YearOn the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead,Is lying.Come, Months, come away,From November to May,In your saddest array;Follow the bierOf the dead cold Year,And like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre.The chill rain is falling, the nipped worm is crawling,The rivers are swelling, the thunder is knellingFor the Year;The blithe swallows are flown, and the lizards each gone
Dreams in the dusk,Only dreams closing the dayAnd with the day's close going backTo the gray things, the dark things.The far, deep things of dreamland.Dreams, only dreams in the dusk,Only the old remembered picturesOf lost days when the day's lossWrote in tears the heart's loss.Tears and loss and broken dreamsMay find your heart at dusk.
Take a hold nowOn the silver handles here,Six silver handles,One for each of his old pals.Take holdAnd lift him down the stairs.Put him on the rollersOver the floor of the hearse.Take him on the last haul,To the cold straight house.The level even house,To the last house of all.The dead say nothingAnd the dead know muchAnd the dead hold under their tonguesA locked-up story.