Destitute for love,
To rest my tired heart,
To heal my wounded heart.
Why can't this simple wish be fulfilled ?
Has fate chosen me,
Not to have anything to love,
To be what I've become...
Do I have another choice,
But this blood stained carpet,
Or continue this bitter struggle, without love...
Tell me, Do I ?
Help me for I am dying,
Grab my hand, Help me out of this missery...
Before I choke in my pain...