World War Four Wither
Weak and feeble,
gaunt and drawn
Pins and needles,
crown of thorns
Bring me not your cup of pain
bring no more your dirty stain
In my sleep you come you creep
In my veins the pain runs deep
And I creep I crawl,
I seethe and I crave
I wither, I waste,
alone I rage
Bring me not your cup of pain
bring no more your dirty stain
In my sleep you come you creep
In my veins the pain runs deep
And I wither
Bring me not your cup of pain
bring no more your dirty stain
In my sleep you come you creep
In my hands the pain runs deep
