I fall into an inferior condition around you
A state of decay; of deterioration,
And no matter what I do
I can't throw away my passion
I tell myself each day, each night
That I will not be the one to fall
That someday I will take flight
One word I shall call
Shadows dance on the walls
They look almost human
The obsidian-black raven calls
And I fall into the pit of affliction
Am I truely so inferior
That you can't even look at me?
Decadence, my love,
Kiss me with your gentle lips
