The end The songwriter?s dead The blade fell upon him Taking him to the white lands Of Empathica, Of Innocence Empathica Innocence The dreamer and the wine Poet without a rhyme A widowed writer, torn apart by chains of Hell One last perfect verse Yet still the same old song Oh Christ, how I hate what I have become Take me home Get away, run away, fly away Lead me astray, to dreamer?s hideaway I cannot cry ?cause the shoulder cries more I cannot die, I, the whore for the cold world Forgive me, I have but two faces One for the world, One for God save me I cannot cry ?cause the shoulder cries more I cannot die, I, a whore for the cold world My home was there and then These meadows of heaven Adventure-filled days One with every smiling face Please, no more words Thoughts from a severed head No more praise Tell me once my heart goes right Take me home Get away, run away, fly away Lead me astray, to dreamer?s hideaway I cannot cry ?cause the shoulder cries more I cannot die, I, the whore for the cold world Forgive me, I have but two faces One for the world, One for God save me I cannot cry ?cause the shoulder cries more I cannot die, I, a whore for the cold world Whore for the cold world Whore for the cold world Sparkle my scenery With turquoise waterfall With beauty underneath The Ever Free Tuck me in Beneath the blue Beneath the pain Beneath the rain Goodnight kiss for a child in time Swaying blade my lullaby On the shore we sat and hoped Under the same pale moon Whose guiding light chose you Chose you all I?m afraid, so afraid, of being raped Again and again and again I know I will die alone, but loved You live long enough to hear the sound of guns Long enough to find yourself screaming every night And if you want Live long enough to see your friends betray you Years have I been strapped unto this altar Now I only have three minutes and counting I just wish the tide would catch me first And give me a death I always longed for Second robber to the right of Christ Cut in half - infacticide The world will rejoice today As the crows feast on the rotting poet Everyone must bury their own No pack to bury the heart of stone Now he's home in Hell, serves him well Slain by the bell, tolling for his farewell The morning dawned upon this altar Remains of the dark passion play Performed by his friends without shame Spitting on his grave as they came Get away, run away, fly away Lead me astray, to dreamer?s hideaway I cannot cry ?cause the shoulder cries more I cannot die, I, the whore for the cold world Forgive me, I have but two faces One for the world, One for God save me I cannot cry ?cause the shoulder cries more I cannot die, I, a whore for the cold world A whore for the cold world A whore for the cold world Today, in the year of our Lord, 2005 Thomas was called from the cares of the world He stopped crying at the end of each beautiful day The music he wrote had too long been without silence He was found naked and dead With a smile in his face, a pen and 1000 pages of erased text Save me! Be still, my son You're home Oh when did you become so cold? The blade will keep on descending All you need is to feel my love Search for beauty, find your shore Try to save them all, bleed no more You have such ocean's within In the end I will always love you The beginning