Crashing down like Sunday morning
No matter the day, it's always the same
Coming down cold as the dead
Yet the fear keeps living still so deep within

The everflow the angels claim to know
Is there such a place?
Somewhere deep inside this hollow shell
A shred of hope must somehow be left

They're as always so far away
And nothing at all seems to help nowadays
Maybe it all should be put to an end

Ghastly dreams come to me
Sometimes even after sleep
These horrid shreds of impossible being
They tear in me
No solution to something that should not be
This might be just what it seems
A sickness of the soul