Behold the masses   armed with their vile words   words that cut deeper than the sword   The orchestra of hecklers   will never cease the ruckus   as I am no audience   worthy of their acceptance   Do your worst my friend   For we shall meet again   My disease has stricken everyone   twas I who made you ill   now this body you wish to kill   but today is the day and I’m still mine   To me, the tears I see are gold   the hearts I’ve touched burn cold   and in the darkness of the midnight sun   I know, regardless, MY WILL IS DONE