And although,

When I saw crimson tears,

Fall from crimson eyes,

I saw no pain in this blood shed,

Or fear of death,

Only morbid pleasure,

In this game of hearts,

And only blackness of orchids and night,

In a place no starts should shine for fear of decay,

And rotting life,

And loss of life,

But nothing seems to matter in this world,

In this terror,

But that morbid pleasure,

In those crimson tears,

In human nature.