“The Lantern That Refuses to Die”

If the lantern burns on, it is because of you, I say,

As the midnight rain stitches my shadow to the ground,

For the days that vanished still cling to me like clay.

The sins on these hands refuse to wash away,

As the midnight rain stitches my shadow to the ground,

And hatred blooms before forgiveness finds its way.

Your lingering scent turns every path to gray,

As the midnight rain stitches my shadow to the ground,

For the days that vanished still cling to me like clay.

Even wishing for the end only leads me astray,

As the midnight rain stitches my shadow to the ground,

And hatred blooms before forgiveness finds its way.

What I longed to erase was never you, but my own decay,

As the midnight rain stitches my shadow to the ground,

For the days that vanished still cling to me like clay.

If the lantern burns on, it is because of you, I say,

And I cling to time, a villain unable to turn around,

For the days that vanished still cling to me like clay.