Type O Negative

(Steele)
Damn me Father, for I must sin...
Four centuries of this damned immortality
Yet, I did not ask to be made. Why?
I will never again feel your sun upon my face
Or the comfort of a grave
I am not alive and I am not dead
This is Hell on earth
How can I possibly explain this eternal youth?
When I can do nothing, but sit by
As my loves grow old and wither
And with each of them, take a fragment of my heart
And prolong this endless winder
It is October's perpetual agony
It is the shadow realm