Fully bloomed sky that lights the night in it’s darkened times of age,
Queen of thee, half empty moon, guards thy happiness for whome?
Spoke did not, we can guess only, she knows the man that wants change :
This lone wolf with his wrong thoughts, hopes he can make her lips raise.

He looks at her, till the dark fades, and when she’s full he wants her stay.
Romance is not present, his young, ripe breast’s forever pure,
Yet, her traits, true in his dreams,
Repeat their line as in a play;
Enjoyed by him, without his will, this damp, cruel fancy breakes his core.

New protector of his smile, all you do is rip his heart -
You say nothing of your pain, all you do is listen soundly,
Take in carefully his despair; he just want’s to know your part,
Help you cope with your emotions, clean your soul of the cold endly.

Better take care of this boy, that nature has gave up on,
For his growth has just begun and a pack will taint his wings.
When you’re lost, not seeing him, his soul tries to reach your throne;
On his stairs he works all day, and in him a war has gone.

Drop, drop; here it comes, it’s the sound we all despite,
It’s the water, no, the rain who we love and hate.
See, with time, driven by life, it changes it’s fate;
Borne to be the cold, pure snow who we love and hate.
Falling still, staying like wind, it seems as a bride
Who in her dance tried to mask the wrongs she made,
Made by her innocence, tainted from the inside.

Now, as time restarts it’s flow, we begin to see t’s true form-
Could this be the shape of love?

Borne to be the cold, pure snow who we love and hate,
See with time, driven by life, it changes it’s fate;
It’s the water, no the rain who we love and hate.
Drop, drop; here it comes, as the sound we all detest.

Lovestruck moon who reigns the sky,
Your king’s wishing he could fly;
You locked him up, deep underground,
His call is rare, for he’s your hound.

He’s allowed to see you late
When your rival come’s to play,
Yet he know’s he has to wait
When with someone else you’re gay.

Your new love’s young, quite a beauty.
The crying stars forfiet his chance;
They know your heart, they know your’re guilty,
And that your stench will end his dance.

When he’ll find out your true face,
It’ll be to late to escape,
For your grasp won’t ever budge,
Even for the the love of your crude life.

For thou soil-like eyes whome you detest,
I would end worlds to meet at last.
On thy body whome mine least,
Sits a feeling thee doubt see.

Smiling roses from pale skin
Fill my air with fragrance rain,
And the silk-touched hair, thee have slain,
Tells my thought of thy past dream:

It met you late, in night’s ripe time.
It wished you pain, for your love’s blind.

Ah, my queen, when I see thee
I feel my heart escaping me;
Yet, the sadness succumbe’s I,
For thou soul, won’t merge with mine.