Why do the words of silence always end up in a cold and unclean bed?

These pointless conversations and the same thoughts in my head

Repeat, repeat the process and the pattern plays again

Regrets they seem to merge with fears in dreams of lust in vain



Nothing is faithful



Moments of construction hurting, heading me to loss

and in my deepest aching picture no more I see us

Sorrow acts my doubtful servant, I border lines so thin

Unbounded are my sacred areas, sentenced to die within



Nothing is faithful