Within the soul of Man
Blood gets darker from the outside in,
'tis darkest where it meets a man's soul.
Black is it's color, black from our sin,
From hatred and lies that we've told.
Perhaps there are some, with hearts that are pure,
With souls that have not yet been poisoned.
The toils and problems of life they endure,
For that is the life they have chosen.

The mind is a trap, a hunter for strength
It reaches with fearsome claws.
It grapels with others, rising in rank,
For the mind makes it's own selfish laws.
A powerful thing, born to the world,
In a rush of evil and blood.
It is through this mind that demons are heard,
It's the one thing from which we can't run.

We are a slave to the very thing-
The thing that keeps us alive;
Sleep and lust, food and drink
Our our strong will to survive.
Our bodies are mobile prisons,
From which we cannot escape.
To be free is to make the decision,
And welcome the deadly blade.