I can not die before I wake.
There will be no soul for God to take
but a hole inside where it once dwelled,
now lost with my heart it burns in hell.

Tomorrow it'll show and everyone will see
the pitiful ghost I've turned out to be;
nothing more than a walking mist,
no peace in death but to simply exist.

And when night falls I won't have dreams,
only living nightmares of hollow screams
and the devil's laughter as I try to sleep,
dangling the soul he will always keep.