Never heard from him again Saw the obit A week later
Rebound
He was supposed to be dead But there he stood with sightless eyes Still in the clothes we buried him in
Buried Alive
Dirt in my mouth Nowhere to spit it out The dirt keeps pouring it
The Times has Come
Angel of death waits patiently She need not rush No appointment is ever missed
Toxicity
Living in a world of gas mask terror Never thought I'd see the day Where we would fear
Ghost of a Sound
There's a whisper on the wind And my head turns As though you have called my name But there is only the wind
Haunting the Senses
The smell of dying roses Lingers in the air Long after they're gone
Priceless
I'd sell my soul But it was stolen From me long before
Where’s the remorse?
She pushed her out the window Through the glass panes And as she stared down
Grim
It's a grim day When the reaper comes Regardless of weather
Fragment of a Figment 