These faces so tired and pale
Were shaped with birches
Indocile but doomed to resist
To overcome the pain of loss
These eyes lose their colours
Showing nothing except shame
They have never looked at the sun
That is too blind to understand...
These lips whisper the only
Names forsaken in the depths of time
They confront splendid illusions
But they are not able to utter a prophecy
Surrounded by darkness...
Absorbed by madness...
Just moments...
Just fragments...
When a list thread is torn
When a last page is turned
When a last exhale calmes
A heart stops beating paralyzed
Depressed with nonsense of remorse
We ever must pay twice
Trampling flowers growing
With the sickly-sweet smell of grief
Epitaphs as secrets betrayed
On monuments of compa**ion
Absurdly try to describe pain
Where echoes of the past walk...