Now you all see how deep I am, it's time for you to see how tormented I am. So I present to you the black, cancerous rot that is my soul. It's more tragic than the great puppy massacre of '85. Worse than losing your favourite black nail varnish or being told by your mummy (she doesn't understand) you're not allowed to paint you room black in an outward expression of your deep, dark depth.

My Soul

Oh the deep dark depths of deep dark darkness

My soul is empty

As empty as the love you promised

I gave you my love

You broke it like a mirror

The mirror of dreams

Or maybe a black rose

In the rain

The rain of my torment

You do not understand my darkness

My empty soul had grown wings

But it's still dark

My love is a mole

Wiggling in the coal mine of passion

But where are the candles?

They've melted

Like my heart.