Dasvidania

Pieces of my arms, my legs, and my head, segregated from my body -- he's dead, but his soul is still a part of me; his hair stuffed, hidden, within me ...

I rise, I crawl, and slow in pace, I have made my mind and now I haste to take this chance, to last just once, I go ...

Inside her old box of coffee and tea; needles and threads, clippers and pins, neatly arranged in this little kit, they glow below the floors of her bed;

I sew myself together again, humming the song that she once sung to him; darkening thoughts that once clouded him, they grow inside my little head, I go ...

And I will go, I'll crawl, I'll crawl

And she will know, it all, it all

All of the pain he strained in love for her;

there's much to gain, I'll murder her

That I may burn away and thus, be gone ...

Dasvidania, my love.