Broken?

Anyone in the way in the path I weave,

Death and destruction is all I leave,

Walking tall as light turns dark,

Knowing I never miss my mark,

Slumping back as dark turns light,

Knowing I'm fighting a losing fight.

And some morning I'll wake up dead,

A welcome relief from the life I've lead,

My heart's not in it anymore,

As rain from the heavens begins to pour,

Running down my neck like cold fingers of ice,

I'm lead to believe it might be nice.

To lead a good life, have fortune and fame,

Not be left outside in cold, unforgiving rain.