Forgot to say my prayers,
had no idea why not.
I’ve prayed for nothing all my life,
and look at what I’ve got.

In our minds we are together,
and respond on the phone.
But always, in all circumstances,
we live and die alone.

Martyrs crawl from out their holes,

and walk hand in hand into the dome.

With the God’s behind them throwing

flowers,

they die, hand in hand, alone.

Once in embrace, the lovers try in vain,

to fuse their loves and tragedy,

their joys and hopes and fears and tears,

unending melancholy.