Through suffering, we found ourselves a home

When I look in the mirror, I see a wolf staring back at me

With my hands on the horns of the alter, before the death of myself

I'd rather spend my time in this shed than in my room on my bed

Thinking about death and the end

I'm not there, but if I was it wouldn't be long before those ugly thoughts would could creep back into my head

I would be found dead on a bloodstained bed

Tragically young, the forgotten son

I miss you like air under water, drowning in breaths of passion

I cry tears of blood in my sleep, you're in my dreams most nights now

There are no white knights, when chasing stability in bars

Sometimes the only option is to break something fragile

Like someone's heart

Through suffering, we found ourselves a home

When I look in the mirror, I see a wolf staring back at me

With my hands on the horns of the alter, before the death of myself

I'd rather spend my time in this shed than in my room on my bed

Thinking about death and the end