It seems I've grown used to the cold of lonesome nights,
the shadows speak in demonic tongue, my end in their sights
Whispers echo, reverberating, voices of malice sink into veins,
their bite for which I find myself immune, an ignored stain

Playing on my conscience, guilt strums its harp, a melody of sin,
endless games of strategy I lose, practically giving the devil a win
Why fight this war when their land is much more vast?
My humanity, my emotions, my soul, over a cliff, I've cast

The fights ended, my scars lie a mortal wound that let...