Silhouette of a Dead Man

If I die before I wake I pray to god my soul to take. But if the living have fell and gone. The tables are turning and my soul is torn. So how can sorrow and scorn be formed by the tears of a shadow when a death is born . Follow the wealth giver the death dealer is here. Between the space of a blink and a tear. Beneath the hopeless, the tired, the weak. Beneath the faithless, the fate missed time’s speech. But as this dead man keeps screaming he’s born. His silhouette keeps trying to morn…………..