For six months the westerly wind did blow
Almost every light
Raging seashells drowning my thoughts
Cool shivers formed
For not a single soul had yet to covet my grave

The summer I so wanted was hiding
Waiting for my fail
Puddles of liquid formed at my feet
Wanting fulfillment
Yet my eyes staid dry

More and more darkness rolled in over the hills
To just another day
My glaze suddenly changed
A grip loosened
Thunder came
This whole was falling
No light
No will
No want
The prisoner inside my head fell silent