Fog, he wasn't sorry this it
The fog was such a mask
Behind which at once disappear
Emerge from a thikness of dark
" dancing through the silent waves
Wheezing of pleasure and suffering "
He walked through the fog
Between a thousand black torn walls
To the shoulder of a child
And call her name in a whiff a terrified
And making her run away with glance
Dancing through the silent waves
Wheezing of pleasure and suffering
The oil lamp hanging from the ceiling
Pictures of nightmares born from there
Storm of sadness cleanse my wings
This is the last dawn i will see
There is no time to lose
Morning is still to far
The sun shall turn to dark
Inside the lunar light
Everything is so real
I don't disappear
Every time this year
To take one more life that can be near
Sometimes i see a ghost of me
Drowning through the past
One day i will be free
Winterframes
