Crimson hair
Sadness spreads like hemlock
Through the blood
Spreads like mercy
Through muscle and sinew
A hopeless kind of joy
Worried, are you?
Artistic temperaments do not matter
To anyone

A broken man
Lies, sweating and bleeding
On a bed of nails
Crying about his hopeless
And praying for a death
That will never be polite enough
To hurry along.

And frenzy spreads like hemlock through the blood
And something's kicking off.