Blood on My Hands

I shake my fists at the ceiling, with tightly closed eyes...
And begging for answers, God seems not to hear my cries;
Can we really exist, where the truth is based on lies...
So my world crumbles as, the blood on my hands, it dries.

The pool of blood ceases to spread, but not so my fear...
It doesn't seem possible, I've lost my one so dear;
Because of the rage, never again will she be near...
The tell-tale evidence, the blood on my hands, so clear.

For the taking of a life, must surely be insane...
Though my life was filled with hurt, I've never known such pain;
As I fall to my knees, and cry out to all in vain...
Forever will I see, the blood on my hands, the stain.

I can have no life without her, now I know it's true...
As my heart seethes with revenge, I do what I must do;
Gripping the knife in my slick hands, I run myself through...
And lay down beside her, the blood on my hands, takes two.

The light fades, and I spiral down, into a dark well...
Til all that's left is my soul, trapped in an empty shell;
Here with the agony of my deeds, which will never quell...
And for all time I'll see, the blood on my hands, in hell.

Fox

© August 1994