In the hollow sockets, where my soul used to peer out; 

In the empty cavern, where my heart used to burst; 

In this concave room, I am caught. 

My hands have shrunk and my back has been bent by the oppressive weight of the nothingness.

 

The empty room is heavy with the haunted silence. 

I am haunted by the life I once found there, 

The cave, where my heart should be, echoes with irregular booms; 

The drums of fleeting passion resonate in that fleshy chamber of my chest. My head droops with the weight of the nothingness.

 

The words I hear are hollow, but they sink me to the bottom of my ocean.

The things I do are whisked away in an instant. 

The meaningless motion I try so hard to prefect, wears away at my bones. 

 

There is no rest in this eternal chase. 

Such is the cost of my joy hungry heart. 

I find not rest in this ashen wasteland. 

A race ever onward, without reward and without end. 

 

My brittle bones long for action, but break at my first step.

My hollow eyes yearn for a glimpse of glittering starlight, but burn from the the furnaces within.

I long for what I ought no have.

I take of things, which hold not my name. 

I want to deserve the one who should rightly despise me for my filth.

 

I come to see I need, truly and desperately, your strength. 

I need your new life, new soul and new passion. 

I am dried and dead in this wasteland without you, Oh God.