Falling.. Dying... Darkness and snow covered my path Unbearable cold winds are facing me... My only one desired thought is death, That unique salvation.. Sorrows from The past, they all come in a dark-shaped Specter, he is stabbing me with his scythe.. Drowning in this cold suffering of mine.. I can see the sky turn to grey, beneath A wave of hate inside my now rotting body, My sight is dim and pale. Shadows... Rotting, here, alone, in deep agony, slowly Fading away.. Still shrouded in decadence... Dying.. Gone...