The tidal wave, that rides your name The empty grave, that lit the flame With righteous tears, to heavens bounds Or descending stairs, towards ashen grounds A grieving bouquet, on bloodstained sands To prepare the way, for palming hands A trail has been carved, through death and despair Another laid starved, from every comforts stare The tidal wave, that rides your name The empty grave, that lit the flame With righteous tears, to heavens bounds Or descending stairs, towards ashen grounds