Who do we pray to when the thought of death leaves a sweet taste on our lips?
How do we find the key to doors of Apshodel?
Is there redemption for soul so lost their
daily cravings are blood and a coffin sixteen feet deep?
What do we say to the god of death,
Who in mockery of his position we give up our ghosts before he can rip it.
Rest in pieces and peace, a thousand cuts as we go to endless slumber in a cold cold grave.
Do the dead think?
Do they perhaps wonder what it'd be like to not be without life?
Or is that only meant for those who take away the life they didn't give?
They say death has no mercy for the dead but he has shown me so much mercy,
For even while I have died inside I still breathe.
A chosen one "The living dead"