Throw  of  the  scent

To  seize  the  chase  of  life

When  one  with  death  no  light  in  sight

I  have  been  told  that  before  the  end

The  angels  will  come,  angels  will  come

Years  has  taken  the  best  out  of  me

The  sharpest  edge

Endless  burdensome  journey  without  a  rest

Murder  in  cold  blood  instead  of  a  suicide

This  crime  is  justified

I  have  killed  myself  so  many  times

That  for  me  without  a  doubt

Heaven  is  denied

I  am  here,  I  am  waiting,  In  silence

With  no  fear  of  dying

No  more  bleeding  inside

Waiting  for  the  black  sun  to  rise