The Count VII site


Full of sorrow, full of pain

They do grow like an ink stain

What do I do what do I say?

Looking at the horizon,

Waiting for the day,

Cherishing the reason

To let life slip away

From my body to wherever it came from.

It’s a ship in the mid of a storm

Trying its best to stay afloat

Smashed and crashed by the waves

Going to and fro

Tossed hither and thither

And though it has an anchor

The link is just too weak to do any good

Like a homeless man pleading with a banker

Yes I’m feeling sour and bitter

Looking down at all the graves

Wishing on Hades could I dot…


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