Single Handed (The Days Of The Trumpet Call)

Soul covered in dust 
Spoiled walls transpire 
The voice of the mould 
Of life chained 

I sleep on the coils 
Dusted places soaked 
Fragments of lived life 
(and) Of a Lost smile 

Floating away 
The twisted coils around me 
Is it too far for me 
for my unsold soul? 

How can you say that it doesn't matter 
when everything around has starded to shatter? 

Waiting over accomplishments 
I need and I want to try 
all the pleasure and the pain 
coming back again