Heavenly Reaper Song

Sometimes one neglects their love,

Two girls who loved you long,

And yet for their sake you leave them alone,

Because you would rather say so long.

To give into to love, is to give into heartbreak,

When you sing the Grim Reaper’s song.

For the girls are angels, and yet treated not,

And the bell tunes to its angelic song.

In the prison they wait for death,

Hearing strange voices by stranger men,

And hop to God, if they so believe in him,

That they won’t be hurt again.

So they make small talk to cope,

While hoping against the hopeless hope,

To be blessed by the pope.

Instead their dresses become mud.

And I wait regretted, for the girls I once loved,

To instead wait for their demise.

I’d rather them be dead, then deal with my lies,

As I lie to myself about hating them and their lives.

And yet I still cry, when the blades takes their lives,

And the blood squirts on my face.

Because those angels, lost to time,

Could have been treated as royal by me,

Listening to folk songs, of metal and rhyme.

So I wait for death by their headstone,

And for the heavenly reaper song.