Where am I?
Caught in the afterlife, or in limbo, who can tell?
Save me from the everlasting grief that they call Hell.
Eight internal bleedings, stigmata, one per sin.
I committed all of them, my cleansing can begin.
Blood pressure weak, broken and torn,
a sinner who was cursed from the day he was born
Looking at the whitened ceiling through a cloud of blood
Drifting in and out of consciousness in memory flood.
In my search for the light, I travel back in time
for my deadly sins to be uncovered as a holy crime.
Cellular death, the soul has left his eye.
Nothing to do, nurse, please take him away to die.
What if my mortal remains are all that proved I was here?
What if I didn’t leave a mark in peoples’ sphere?
What if my deadly sins were my way to make you see?
To make all you nonbelievers believe in me...