Hands:

Dirty, bloody, sticky again
I wash my hands, but I can't get the guilty feeling off
No memories of last night, nothing in my head
What have I done, and what for?

I search my pockets, find a bloody knife
I do things I dont remember, I think I am cursed
Why me? God, why?
I hear voices from the back of the hearse
I hear someone cryin'
Sounds of people dying
But I cant remember hurting anyone
Oh, what have i done?

I light a match, throw it on my bed
Time to take my very last rest
I breathe in, jump in the flames
Fire will clean my hands, and burn the demon in my brain...

done...

Streets

its dark night and i walk on a street
i'm all alone and i wonder
where will my street lead
everyone walks his own street
but no one travels alone
we all have travelling company
until the end of the road
some streets are shorter than others
some have more pain and difficulties along
but every street leads to same place
where we will meet again
and at the end of our hard travel
we can rest until the end of the world