| I feel strange little space
|
| Gloomy darkness, chill and dump
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| My body makes no move
|
| The preception’s getting weak
|
| The feelings are getting paralysed
|
| The blood is getting curdled
|
| I’m dying
|
| These are the last minutes
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| Of my living
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| Absolute silence
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| Absolute darkness
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| I’m dying here for 666 day
|
| Rotten wooden pieces
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| Are falling down
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| To my dead body
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| Worms are devouring my past
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| And my soul’s waiting
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| For roots of the flowers
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| Which could satisfy my sleep
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| And which could destroy nasty
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| Wooden box
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| To which I’ve been thrown off
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| I see the tomb with my name
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| I don’t have any fleshy clothes
|
| I know my soul
|
| Lives in another dimension
|
| I watch the happenings on a terrible cemetery
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| On this enclosed piece of ground
|
| I see the occasional groups
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| Of living mourning people
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| It’s a sign of eternal oblivion
|
| My soul has no place in people’s hearts
|
| I do not see anyone standing at my memorial
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| There are no traces left after the tears and sorrow
|
| I’m here alone
|
| My soul still exists
|
| I’ll be waiting for the time
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| When someone’s heart
|
| Will suffer for the pain
|
| The memories will get back
|
| Then, at the rain
|
| Under the gloomy sky
|
| I will contently end up My being… |