The whispering of the cornfields haunt me like the moans of my undead enemies.
My depression grows stronger: its bitter claws around my neck.
I will always be tortured... tortured by solitude.
Will anything get better for me?
I have watched the world die, all I know now is regret.
Will this sickness ever leave this world?
I have watched the world die, all I know now is regret.
I will never see through this nightmare. I will never know sunlight again.
I will never see through this nightmare. I will never taste her lips again.
I will never see through this nightmare. I will never taste her lips again.