Razors over mad apostles

I remember you...
Rome in September, Glass all around, why don't you?
You turned around
Bleeding the voice, sleeping with noise a whole week long

All my friends are dead & gone
So I'm sitting here alone trying to make another song
And everytime I try I fail
What's the matter with the jail?
Not enough for me to say: "The black sheep cried!"

Smoke filled up my brain
Stupid song-writing, headaches arriving in the night
Gone... and now it's gone
Did you experience? Wasn't it hard to be a god?

All my friends are dead & gone
So I'm sitting here alone trying to make another song
And everytime I try I fail
What's the matter with the jail?
Not enough for me to say: "The black sheep cried!