| A cold dawn of autumn
|
| And the blood announces the worst
|
| As the deepest sorrow comes
|
| We begin to ride… on death’s horse
|
| The woods seem to hold our room
|
| Covering the light inside the womb
|
| The ten percent begins to be true
|
| The standards abandoned us
|
| She discovered our paradise
|
| Turned it into pale void
|
| Our love this time is not enough
|
| Our faith is useless
|
| So please take care of our little blood
|
| Oh earth and water…
|
| Nowadays we follow
|
| The doctrine of the hidden mourning
|
| As an internal deep wound
|
| Pain is dressed as fake joy
|
| Everyone seems to enjoy their luck
|
| While we drown in a lake of loss
|
| The ten percent begins to be true
|
| The standards abandoned us
|
| She discovered our paradise
|
| Turned it into pale void
|
| Our love this time is not enough
|
| Our faith is useless
|
| So please take care of our little blood
|
| Oh earth and water…
|
| Statistics against dreams,
|
| They mock tragedy
|
| Life… You betrayed us
|
| Time… Could you cure us?
|
| Blood… Come back to us
|
| Probability rules the earth…
|
| It Rules death |