I am a city of stone,
My blood is a river of sadness and solitude
Carrying all the nothings I hide inside
Into the rancid swamp called heart I'm said to possess,
Like a flower is nothing
While the factory of dust works ahead.

My brain is made of nitroglycerine
And my head of glass, so anyone can see
The lost soul haunting under my hair,
Yes... I love heavy metal,
Headbanging... unfelt desire,
So fragile... Did you get the metaphor?

My eyes have my mother's sadness buried into,
I feel them always so sick of view,
My hands still shiver, as of fear
Of the dark or of the fall,
My feet make cheap music when walking
While my heart... do I really have one?

My way was a burial into agony,
Senseless flight from life,
I was a sad jester with fake jokes,
I am a stiff corpse still creeping ahead,
Cannot feel but pain, and whatever...
Ashes to ashes, dusk to dusk.