But let me say I wrote most of them when seem taken someone soul. So the Undertaker is about Souls, death and darkness and these poems are about that and thats what the links is here!
Passion was the fruit of this tree,
It was what opened my orphan tears,
It was what started to complete me
The sicissors never really fit my hand well,
The salesman begins to bargin,
But I have nothing left to sell
The land where souls once lifted,
Arose to my cadaverous despair,
For it was my mind which drifted
Razors on the wrists is what they give,
I accept; Head in shame,
All I am trying to do is live
For what my attempts bring
The melody is a slow hell
Can you hear the sad song I sing
My tears are of vain lost feeling
The blow has been delivered
And it has sent me reeling
My heart is empty; and for what would I fill
The materials I have are aged
The shock would probably kill
As I look; Have I warranted treatment so shoddy
I cry at the answer; YES
Another soulless body
I stood upon the sands of Time,
And spoke in words of mystic Rhyme,
I asked Death - why did he kill?
Whose purpose did he serve - whose will?
And he replied with a cold, old stare,
And beckoned me with fingers bare,
Sat upon his skeleton throne,
His words turning my heart to stone...
And I saw then what I had to see.
That the killer was not him - but me.
For wasting my time, my life, my breath,
By not avoiding my own death.
But then he stopped, and lightened tone,
Holding out his hand of bone,
He showed me death, the end to life,
A happy finish to our strife,
And strangely fitting, strangely right,
An honourable end to this bitter fight.
He said my death was not foretold,
That peace was bought when life was sold,
And he was there to give an end,
And our selves to quiet send.
Then he softly touched me, here.
And no longer did I fear.
I slip into the darkness
fallen from the sky
I feel tremendous pain
so much I wish to die
my blackened soul descends
to wallow in my demise
I hold my cloak to my chest
to shield me from your lies
a trickle of blood leaves me
falling like bloodied tears
my soul has left
but not my fears
There you are
In all your twisted glory
Growing straight
Then bending
Goes your story
No one to blame
For your self-torturing plight
Abuses gone
Your ignorance
Blinded sight
You spit and rail
At those that bid you love
And so you spend your time
A crow....not dove
You hurt the very ones
That bode you well
And in your twisted mind
Self-torturer's
Dwell
On nothingness
On things
Long gone
Long past
You clutch the club
Self-beat
Too soon
Too fast
Into a bloody pulp
Emotionless
No feeling
Your evil twists and turns
Must others' dealings
Let it go
Let it be
Is all the clue
You need to
Set your soul
Upright
'Tis true
Tortured soul
Will right itself
And then
You will be well
A righted soul...
Again