And now melancholy... This storm of feelings
stunts me, I start to see the frist shines that
flod up me on the knees, the short but
intense pleasure swept by warm emotions,
I'm deprive of my soul and wandering in the
indefinite... I lose conscience.
I realize what has been, how is made
my body and this pierces me it slowly
extinguishes me to the growth of this new feeling.
As the cycle of seasons my body is changing
his forms and colors, in the decadence
I'm lowered as a faded flower.
This is the season of desperation, deprived
of own soul, abducted from an abyss
of shining customs.
This is the seson of desperation
my depression is just
begun... This is the season of desperation.
