The deep is that void inside
The deep is that sorrow which crucifies
The deep is that punctuation in every song
With emphasis and stress up to a crescendo

Succumb to thy eroding strain of shadow
amidst Baldur’s gate standing, knocking
Alas! Staring, callused and bruised
Unmoving adrift of unknown tomorrow

Buried this deep a furlong at a time
Forlorn in this feeling of this so-called love
For love is nothing
For love is everything

Deserted and desolate in this haven of pure fallacy
Thought for taught this can never be
Alone and willow in the burrows of sacrifice
Thought to be, taught to love

Love is a glass, love is a crystal
A spot conveys breakage a spec shatters vanity
The complexity no one can muster
The simplicity strikes a blunder

Nothing to do, nothing to bare
Undecorated, unresonated
Unto the silence which everyone can hallow
Banter thy burning atonement

For nothing is nothing
and love is everything
but when everything is anything
that anything comes to nothing