The Fangs of Heaven

the pain of losing her love
to the grave is beyond control
and the world has become such a dark cold place
since a coffin became her home
i know hat he can't hear me 6 feet below the earth
and i can't abide these bullshit lies or ressurrection or rebirth
if i called out your name
would it all be the same?
would no angels weep for me?
am i left here to bleed?
we thought we'd be "forever"
but you left me here alone
there's no solace to hide by your graveside
the autumn rain never felt so cold
now my soul is slowly fleeting, like a funeral percession down the line
no gregorian chants or hymnal rants
could hide the fact i'm dead inside
so i stand in the rain
and at the speed of pain
we devised a plan
this unity won't end
if she can't come back for me
then perhaps i should go to her
for only indeath can she be met
in world away from hurt
a cosmic loophole in gods plan
will put me back into her ars
and bastard saints will acknowledge that we can't be torn apart
how does one measure pain?
does it reach the bottom of a grave?
will she be waiting for me there?
anythings better than here
now the blade is to my wrist
and theres sweat upon my brow
and the metals cutting in
and the blood begins to flow
life begins to fade away

all colors are replaced with gray
and i fell as though i'm floating
but to where i can not say
now i hear voices begin to say
"you shouldn't have come this way"
"you'll never be more alone"
"you should have stayed where you belonged"
now as i regain my sight
and lose this gift of flight
i discover the irony in gods sick plan
any hop now is as bleak as night
all in all i should have known
the fangs of heaven bite straight to the soul
and as my angel sleeps in heaven
i'll rot in hell below