Somewhere I'll find the [bad word] Though I doubt, I wonder
Is there a [bad word] to be found?
Where lies the soul of my being
The purpose of my presence.

The theme that haunts me
Carved with a knife
On to my feeble skin.

Several years before
Negative pulse arisen from shore
All my sense appeared gone
Yet reason came back to me
Sword-carved skin!
Like a storm, it made me forget
But still I remember.

Nothing can drive this pain away
Though I doubt, I wonder
Is there are a [bad word] to be found?
The days grow in sorrow
As the blood soaks the ground.

The theme that haunts me
Carved with a knife
On to my feeble skin.

"I feel the [bad word] back
Closed wounds start bleeding again
The earth below my feet
Urging me to [bad word] Of this pathetic form of growth
We call life..."

I do not fear them
Though ignorance can be mistaken for
I only fear myself
Apparently I should.