Pitch Black Mourning

All of these thoughts that come running through my head, they seem to be
distorted pictures.
Memories of how I first got to this point, through a blurry polaroid.
Days in the wilderness, lost in the emptiness. All my thoughts are clouded by
the pitch black mourning of something long gone, a ghost without a name.
Ghost without a name
Ghost without a name
Ghost without a name
When mourning comes, it screams so loud.
Crackin' up again.
Wash the blood and hide the evidence.
The sun arise, it burns my eyes.
Well, I never thought it would come to this… my dear.
Crashed on the way down, my head first into the ground.
Bloodstains lead the way home for me.
Follow the trail from the ground to the wrist to these pale, anemic eyes.
Erase and rewind, throw it all back in time. Tell me, will I still remember you?
And how comes, the last thing I see as I pass out, is you fading to black.
When mourning comes, it screams so loud.
Crackin' up again.
Wash the blood and hide the evidence.
The sun arise, it burns my eyes.
Well, I never thought it would come to this… my dear.